


A Marriage of Very Little Convenience

by oh_you_pretty_things



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: Arranged Marriage AU, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, F/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr, mash-up of books and shows and movies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-24
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-11-05 02:45:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 28,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17910503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oh_you_pretty_things/pseuds/oh_you_pretty_things
Summary: An arranged marriage AU where Hiccup and Astrid are from rivaling, hostile tribes. I’ve taken some liberties with some TV show, book AND movie elements for this AU. Originally posted (and also cross-posted) on tumblr.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally based on a tumblr anon suggestion for an arranged marriage AU where Hiccup and Astrid were from rivaling, hostile tribes. I’ve taken some liberties with some book AND movie elements for this AU. This was originally posted on tumblr.

It was the same battle it had always been, the never ending skirmish to gain lands. This time it was Berk attacking the Meathead Islands. This time it was Stoick attempting to gain ground. The sound of metal on metal filled the air, punctuated with heavy grunts and pained shouts. There was the tang of blood on the air, wafting in with the damp sea breeze in the early morning light. They’d been fighting all night when Stoick found Hoff the Horrible on the mountain side.

“There you are,” Stoick boomed, his war hammer at his side. 

“There _you_ are,” Hoff replied. 

A dragon circled overhead, low and ominous. Hoff kept his eyes trained on Stoick. 

“I see you’ve brought your pet.”

“Oh, I won’t be needing him, Hoff.”

As though on some silent cue, they both sprang into action with a rush, weapons colliding loudly in the stillness of the morning. The rest of the battle was far behind them. It was only two lone Vikings on the mountain that morning. 

“You better kill me, Stoick. That fishbone of a son of yours won’t even have a chance.”

Stoick growled somewhere deep in his throat, instantly regretting the _one time_ he had brought Hiccup to the Meathead Islands when he was still mostly a boy.

“He’s grown, Hoff.”

“And rides a Night Fury. I know.”

Hoff’s hammer met Stoick’s with a deafening clatter and both men were sent skidding backward from the force. They gave pause to their actions, their chests heaving with the effort, the sheen of sweat shining with the rising sun.

“My Astrid would tear him to pieces,” Hoff spat.

“Your Astrid should—“ 

But the planned insult fell flat as the cogs in Stoick’s mind were set into a sluggish motion. His arm lowered to his side, hammer still held with threatening force. 

“Your daughter,” he mumbled.

Hoff’s eyes narrowed at Stoick. “What about my daughter?”

“She’s unmarried.”

Hoff lunged at Stoick, raising his hammer over his head and bringing it down with striking fury. “Don’t bring my daughter into this!”

Stoick danced out of the way of each of Hoff’s blows, his mind still working furiously. “Wait!”

“What?” Hoff growled, not pausing but slowing his movements considerably.

“Hiccup is also unmarried.”

“That’s unsurprising.”

Stoick took a half-hearted swing at Hoff. “You want our dragons; we want your crops.”

Hoff landed a punch on Stoick’s jaw, to which Stoick responded with a swift kick to his shins. They both took steps backward and glared at each other.

“Are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?” Hoff asked.

“We’d have twice the army. The Uglithugs land could be ours while they honeymoon.”

Hoff’s head tilted, his great blond beard glinting in the light. “You’re suggesting a marriage.”

“I’m suggesting a union of our tribes.”

Hoff mulled this idea over in his head. Neither Hiccup nor Astrid were getting any younger and they both knew it. Up until now, Hoff had been satisfied with Astrid’s insistence to remain a shield maiden. But the offer before him was great – the junction of Berk and the Meathead Islands could bring so much to both tribes. And the boy - that scrawny, little boy would be easy for Astrid to control.

“And who will lead the tribes then? Astrid is my heir. She can’t be chasing after your boy and running my tribe.”

“Are you planning on dying any time soon? I’m sure Hiccup would be up for the task of running both tribes.”

“Over my dead body.”

“That’s the idea.”

The two rivals stared at one another until they both broke into laughter and clapped each other on the shoulder. They were still laughing as they made their way down the mountainside to call off the fighting. Berk’s tired warriors loaded up onto their dragons and took flight, confused by their chief’s order to stop the fighting, unaware of the impending marriage that awaited their heir.

“Who knows?” Stoick boomed, as he mounted his dragon, “Maybe they’ll actually like each other.”

Hoff’s laughter could be heard echoing throughout the archipelago for days.


	2. Chapter 2

Eret’s fist landed on the door with splintering force causing Astrid to wince. She’d known he wouldn’t take the news of her impending arranged marriage very well. Hel, she hadn’t taken it all that well herself. Just who did her father think he was making arrangements about her life, anyway? It wasn’t as though she’d ever expressed an interest in marriage. It wasn’t as though she and Eret had been particularly discreet about their relationship.

“I knew he didn’t like me,” Eret spat.

Astrid focused on the blooming spread of blood across his knuckles. “He likes you, Eret.”

Eret scoffed at her, shaking his head in apparent disgust. When he raised his eyes to meet hers, they were softer than they should have been, more defeated than she liked them to be. It made her want to march back into the hall and demand that her father call the whole thing off. As if she hadn’t already done that. As if they hadn’t been arguing for days.

“And you’re just going to marry him? This Berkian?”

Astrid bit back a laugh. Eret was anything if not loyal. He hadn’t been with her tribe long, but had already thrown himself in with their seemingly endless rivalry with Berk.

“It’s not like I have a choice.”

Eret frowned at her. “You always have a choice.”

Astrid sighed as their eyes met. She remembered when Eret washed ashore on the Meathead Islands, wounded in the hold of a dragon trapping ship. Even as she’d nursed him back to health herself, clumsily and with far too much force, she never imagined that they’d grow so close. She’d always intended to be a shield maiden, but knowing Eret had made her consider marriage.

Now she didn’t have a choice. She was getting married, but not to Eret. Not to someone tolerable. She was marrying the enemy. And not even to slit his throat in the night. She was marrying the enemy to foster peace. There was something about the whole situation that rang false with everything she knew in life.

Astrid was shocked from her reverie when Eret slammed his fist into the door three more times. This time she winced on behalf of his hand. She reached for him then, cradling his bleeding hand in hers and smoothing a thumb across his raw knuckles.

“Don’t hurt yourself,” she said with a smirk.

Eret glared at her. “This isn’t a joke, Astrid. This is our lives.”

Astrid let the wave of rage bubble up then. Our. There was no our. There never had been. He’d made no offer, no promise. He hadn’t even hinted at anything until now. She dropped his hand.

“No, this is my life. You can walk away from this and marry someone else, be happy, have a choice. I have to marry a man I’ve never met and live in a land I’ve been raised to hate. You’re getting off easy.”

The muscles in Eret’s jaw tensed at her words and he shook his head wordlessly. “If you think this is easy,” he muttered.

“Eret, I—“

He held up a hand to silence her. “It’s not as if we had a chance anyway. Why would the heir to the tribe marry a fisherman, let alone an outsider? Your father would never allow it.”

Astrid opened her mouth to argue, but Eret shook his head again, this time more vehemently. “Don’t. Just…don’t.”

Eret gave her a long look before closing the distance between them and wrapping his arm around her waist. Viciously. Possessively. Their lips met far more gently than Astrid ever remembered. It was a kiss that tasted of goodbye.

“I hope he knows what he’s in for, this heir of Berk,” he whispered against her lips.

He was gone before Astrid had a chance to speak.

##

“I’ll declare war on Berk. I will!”

“You won’t.”

“I will, Hiccup!”

Camicazi paced the back room of the forge while Hiccup continued working on his design. A new and improved prosthetic, or maybe prosthetics. Really, whenever he changed his own, he had to change Toothless’ rigging, too. And when he changed the rigging, he may as well improve the tail design while he’s at it. Cami marched too close to Toothless’ head and the dragon opened one green eye to glare at her, grumbling deep in his throat. Absently, Hiccup reached down and patted Toothless’ head.

Hiccup was trying not to think about his impending, surprise nuptials. He’d argued with his father about the arrangement, but had only been scolded like a child for his troubles. Stoick had dangled concepts that Hiccup was always preaching in front of him – peace, educating other tribes about dragons, food. (It would be nice to have a constant supply of food without having to worry about raiding the Meatheads for it.)

Cami thumped her fist in the middle of his page and glared at him, bright blue eyes piercingly enraged. She was his best friend, his confidant. This had taken her by surprise, too. It wasn’t even that they were romantic, it was just that they’d assumed.

“I’ll bet she has a beard. Do you want to marry a girl with a beard?”

Hiccup snorted and pushed her hand off his page. “At least one of us would have one then.”

“Oh, ha ha,” Cami spat.

She jammed her index finger into his arm. Twice. “I will start a war. On your wedding day.”

“With the calibre of Vikings in attendance, I doubt anyone would notice.” Hiccup looked up when Camicazi was quiet a beat too long. “What?”

“Why aren’t you more upset about this? Shouldn’t you be raving about the injustice of the barbaric nature of this antiquated practice? Or something.”

Hiccup grinned widely. “I knew I’d rub off on you at some point.”

“Well?”

Well. Hiccup was upset about it. It was a barbaric injustice and an antiquated practice. He’d been more than upset when Stoick had come back from a Meathead raid with a marriage contract in hand. He’d been hoping for some grain, at best. Of course he’d been furious. There was so much left to do between perfecting his flight suit and mapping out the world, he didn’t have time to be married. Least of all to a complete stranger. Who probably had a beard. But, naturally Stoick hadn’t cared about what Hiccup wanted. He never did.

Never mind all that, though. Hiccup always had a plan.

He shrugged at Cami. “It’s a good political alliance, I guess. It’ll be nice to have grain without losing half our tribe in the battle.”

“Huh,” Cami said, leaning back against his work table, her tangled blonde hair littering Hiccup’s design. Hiccup shoved her hair out of the way and continued working. “I never thought you’d marry for politics,” she continued.

“I would have married you for politics.”

“Yeah, but at least we like each other. You don’t even know what she’s going to be like, under her beard!” Cami threw her arms wide and set off pacing again.

“And now I’m going to have to marry some moron from the moron tribe.”

“Which tribe is that?” Hiccup asked, looking up at her.

“All of them!”

“Well, there’s always Dagur,” he offered helpfully.

Camicazi glared at him. “Maybe I can steal her before she gets here. No bride equals no wedding.”

“And probably a war.”

“Best possible outcome.”

“I heard she’s a fearsome warrior,” Hiccup said, leaning back on his stool and stretching out his legs. He never imagined they’d ever be so long.

“And what are you going to do with a fearsome warrior wife?” Cami snorted, smacking the back of his head.

“Ow!” Hiccup yelped, rubbing at his head, “Probably cower a lot.”

“You’re really taking this in stride, aren’t you?” Cami barely finished her question before she narrowed her eyes at him and continued, accusingly, “You’re almost too relaxed about all this.”

Hiccup shrugged at her, eyes wide in feigned innocence, bottom lip caught under his front teeth. Cami, naturally, didn’t believe it for a second.

“You’re going to run.”

It wasn’t a question, but then again, it never was.

“Look,” Hiccup said, standing up and gathering his papers, shrugging too sloppily, the way he did when he’s nervous, “I’m not ready to be married. Especially to some scary warrior woman with a beard. I’ve got things to do, Cami. And if I’m not here on the wedding day—“

“No wedding.”

Hiccup paused and shrugged, a grin tugging at his lips. “Exactly.”

“Or better yet,” Cami said, stroking her chin in thought, “They’ll marry her off to Snotlout to save face.”

Hiccup’s grin broadened. “Exactly.”

“He could use a fearsome warrior wife with a beard,” Cami said, smiling deviously, “So, when should I pack?”


	3. Chapter 3

It wouldn’t be a long journey around the islands Astrid knew as home. With a good wind, it would be a few hours at most. Astrid sat on the grassy roof of the hall, watching the village folk milling about, busily preparing for the wedding of their heir. People who she’d known her whole life and those she barely recognized, all rushing from one place to another and Astrid just watching. This wasn’t how her life was supposed to turn out. She was never supposed to be a commodity to be traded off for something her father wanted. It wasn’t how he’d raised her, to sit idly by and let life happen to her. Astrid hated it.

Across the square, she saw the familiar line of Eret’s broad shoulders as he toted a heavy basket of fresh fish. If he knew she was there he didn’t show it. He never once looked up to where Astrid was perched. Not that she expected him to, not really. He didn’t owe her anything. It was probably better this way. A clean break. A fresh start. Astrid ignored the prickle in the corners of her eyes as she thought about the way Helka Lindberg’s hand lingered on Eret’s arm. He’d be married in a year or two; he’d forget all about that summer he spent holding Astrid in his arms and whispering into her golden hair.

And she’d still be stuck married to the heir of Berk. Hiccup. Astrid rolled her eyes at his name. There were so many outdated, ridiculous customs on the Isle of Berk and naming a child to protect it against trolls was among the stupidest that Astrid had ever heard. She wrapped her arms around herself and drew in a long breath. If she were being honest with herself, she’d admit that she was scared. The son of Stoick the Vast? That massive, massive man who had been a constant figure on the battlefield for as long as she could remember? His son? Who rode a Night Fury? How terrifying he must be. Just what was her father signing her up for, anyway?

“I knew I’d find you up here,” a familiar voice said from below.

Astrid smiled before she even looked down to see Heather grinning back up at her. “Am I that obvious?”

Heather gripped the edge of the roof and swung herself up with an inhuman grace. She knocked her shoulder into Astrid’s as she eased down next to her.

Eret was laughing and Astrid’s heart gave a jerk.

“You’re painfully obvious,” Heather offered.

Astrid sighed and laughed at herself. She turned her hand over and traced her callouses with the fingertips of her other hand. It was a distraction from the way Eret’s hand had landed in his hair, flirtatious and nervous. Apparently he was already moving on.

“Have you spoken to him?” Heather asked.

“What’s the point?”

Heather leaned her elbows on her knees. “You’re right. It’s probably better this way.”

Astrid glared at her friend. Heather glanced at her and shrugged. “What? How else was I going to get him?”

Heather smiled at her in a slow, calculating manner that made Astrid smile in spite of herself. She shook her head. “Really, you should be planning to take out Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third.”

“Why would I want to do that?” Heather asked, her tone falsely curious.

Astrid punched her in the shoulder. “We both know Eret’s not your type.”

Heather leaned into Astrid. “And we both know I’m not yours.”

“I’d take you over the Berkian.”

Astrid spat the word out like it was poison, just as Eret had two weeks ago when he had kissed her like it was his last chance. She and Heather sat in silence, the late afternoon sun beating down against their backs. Eret was gathering his empty baskets and getting ready to head back out to sea, where he’d been for the vast majority of the past fourteen days. He paused for a moment, his eyes cast down. Astrid knew that expression. He was thinking of something. He was deciding on something. Then, without warning, he raised his eyes and looked right at her.

Astrid wasn’t stupid. She knew what he was saying with that furrowed brow and those intense, deep brown eyes. She knew what his frown said. She knew the dare he was sending out to her with the upturn of the corner of his mouth. Run, he mouthed, pointing his thumb at his chest, with me. Nothing made more sense in that instant than Eret’s smile and the hope in his eyes.

It was a lingering sentiment that filled her mind, the remembrance of the promise between them. Maybe it was as simple as running away with him. Maybe that would be all it took. She wanted to take back her life, call her own shots. There was nothing Astrid wanted more. And why shouldn’t she? He was a good man. He was hers. Why shouldn’t she want to run with him? Sure, her father would be angry for a while. He’d probably sink Eret’s ship, but what would that matter if they were together?

Astrid didn’t even realize she’d started to move until Heather’s hand clamped around her arm.

“Think of what you’re doing,” Heather hissed into her ear, “This isn’t about you and him. This about your tribe. And the Hooligans. Think about how many lives you’ll save with this marriage.”

Heather paused and glanced toward Eret, whom Astrid was still staring at even though his smile had dissolved into a furrowed brow and a frown again. “You might even be saving his life. But if you run with him now,” she sighed and let go of Astrid’s arm, “you’ll both be running straight into death.”

Astrid shook her head unconsciously, refusing to accept her friend’s words even though she knew they were true. It was exactly how her father had convinced her to go along with this stupid marriage plan. Her people needed her to marry Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third. Her village depended upon it. And just like Heather had said, Eret’s life depended on it, too.

As Heather’s words sunk in, hope dissipated from Astrid’s heart. She was right, of course. How many Meatheads had died over the years because of the never-ending rivalry between her islands and Berk? How many more would she condemn so that she could run off with a man she was only just starting to know? It was true that she didn’t know her intended at all. It was true that she was scared and alone and angry. But Heather’s words were true, too. She and Eret might have had a chance if things were different, but they weren’t and she wouldn’t have him killed for her own selfish reasons.

With a heavy heart, she held his gaze as she shook her head slowly and clearly. Astrid looked away, unable to watch as the last remnants of faith fell away from his face.

#

Everything had been going well. Perfect. All according to plan. Hiccup and Camicazi had waited, carefully, until Stoick had left the Great Hall, his steps heavy with the swaying influence of mead. Hiccup had been so accommodating, so agreeable. There was absolutely no reason for anyone to suspect anything was wrong which was, in retrospect, exactly how they’d been found out. Hiccup knew this at the first blast of his cousin’s Nightmare that he and Toothless had barely managed to avoid. He knew it when Ruff and Tuff’s Zippleback appeared out of the clouds and sent Toothless headed straight downward, toward the frigid sea. But it was Fishlegs and his Gronckle that really stung. Fishlegs, Hiccup had always thought, had been on his side.

The relentless combination of the three teams had kept Hiccup and Toothless busy dodging and changing their flight patterns, despite the interference that Cami was running. His friends had been ready for this. They’d trained for it. Still, Hiccup had fought. He had a Night Fury, after all. He could outfly any of them; he only needed an opening. It would only be a matter of time before Camicazi was successful breaking through the pack and then they’d be free. They’d explore the South. They’d come back after a couple of years (possibly get married along the way so there’d be no chance of Hiccup being forced to marry the bearded Meathead heir), after Stoick had some time to cool off and see reason. (Okay, so, maybe they’d never come back.)

Hiccup and Toothless dove and weaved through the barrage of fire and wings, melding into one another and flying as one. Hiccup was so confident of his impending success that he completely failed to notice Gobber waiting for him on Grump, hovering heavily just close enough that there was no way for Toothless to manoeuvre around them. Just enough for everyone else to catch up.

“Give it up, cuz,” Snotlout said, grinning smugly from his perch, “You’re marrying that Meathead.”

Gobber shook his head slowly. “After this little stunt, you can kiss that rigging goodbye ‘til after the honeymoon.”

Hiccup scowled, trying to ignore the angry shouting match of obscenities happening somewhere above them as Ruffnut and Camicazi went at it.

“I’ll make another,” Hiccup said.

“Oh, you will?” Gobber replied, grinning, “With what tools?”

“You’re a toad-licking munge bucket!” Cami shouted.

“You’re an ugly, reeking pile of –,“ Ruffnut started.

“Enough!”

Stoick’s voice rang out through the clouds as he appeared on the back of Skullcrusher, impressive and very, very angry. Hiccup was used to that glower, but it didn’t mean he liked to see it. The resolve drained out of his body as everyone silenced and only the even whump of wings on air could be heard.

“I’ve had enough, Hiccup,” Stoick said evenly, “Get back in the house.” He glanced at Gobber, “Make sure he gets there.”

Hiccup ignored the dread roiling in his stomach on the ride back. He’d managed to keep the peace with his father since he and Cami had concocted their (completely foolhardy) escape plan. Of course Stoick had known something was amiss. Of course he’d been able to tell.

Toothless warbled confusedly as Gobber made good on his threat to take Hiccup’s rigging. Grounded. The worst possible fate for a dragon rider.  
Well, no. Actually, grounded and engaged to be married to a bearded stranger from a rival tribe. That was the worst possible fate for a dragon rider. Camicazi pushed through the others and walked beside Hiccup as he headed for his house. She gnashed her teeth at Ruffnut before whispering to Hiccup:

“We can still make it. Jump on my dragon; we’ll come back for Toothless later.”

Hiccup shot her an incredulous look. “I’m not leaving him.”

He glanced back at his friends and their dragons and beyond them, to the glowing torches of Berk and the white faces of the villagers peeking out of their homes. Hiccup the Useless had struck again. He couldn’t leave them. Not really. It would only lead to war. He knew this. No amount of running would ever change that.

“Cami, I have to stay.”

Camicazi’s shoulders slumped slightly. “She has a beard, I’m sure of it.”

Hiccup’s mouth quirked upward. “Like I said before, at least one of us will.”


	4. Chapter 4

The cold wind bit into Astrid’s cheeks as the outline of the Isle of Berk became clearer on the horizon, backlit by the orange glow of the sunrise. Shivering, she pulled her furs tighter around her shoulders. This was to be her future. This was to be her domain. Or at least as much as the future chief of Berk would allow. A wave of anger rolled over Astrid again – the very thought of belonging to someone else, to be someone’s property, enraged her. No matter the cause, the fact that she was being traded like chattel made her furious.

“I wish you’d consider changing, Astrid. You look common.” The rumble of her father’s voice behind her made her spine straighten rigidly.

“I wish you’d consider not selling off your heir to our enemies,” she countered, turning cold, blue eyes upon him.

Her father frowned at her, gazing upon her thoughtfully. They’d always been close, but this arrangement had wedged a rift between them.

“You look like your mother,” he all but whispered, “She didn’t take kindly to our marriage either.”

Astrid blinked, surprised. “What?”

Her father’s heavy hand fell upon her shoulder and he smiled. “There wasn’t a day I didn’t thank the stars above for that contract.”

He turned to his crew and shouted directions to the port of Berk. It was probably the first time any of them had come to the island on peaceful terms. Astrid stared after him and carefully considered his words. She’d had no idea that her parents’ marriage had been arranged. They’d been so happy. And when her mother had died of the fever three winters ago, Hoff had worn his devastation as plainly as his tunic. There had been love there.

Astrid turned back to Berk and frowned. She wondered what her mother would have said about this arrangement. She probably would have nodded stoutly and agreed to it, for the good of the Islands, but Astrid wondered what she’d really have thought of it. Would she have words of wisdom and comfort to offer Astrid on this ship ride to her new life? Would she have told her to open her heart to the heir of Berk? Or would she have advised her to slit his throat on their wedding night? It really could have gone either way with Mathilda.

In any sense, Astrid was forced to keep her own counsel. Hoff had refused to allow Heather or any of her other friends on the ship with her, convinced if she travelled alone, she was less likely to toss herself overboard on the journey. Astrid was a strong swimmer and it would be a lie to say she hadn’t at least considered it, but she was no coward. If this was what fate had planned for her, then she had no choice but to see it through.

That didn’t mean she had to like it. Nor did it mean that she had to make it easy on Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third. In fact, she had no intention of making it easy on him. She was the Meathead heir, not some pawn in an ill-conceived political alliance.

They were near enough now to see the flurry of activity on the docks of Berk. Astrid lifted her chin, the wind burning her nose with its icy fingers. She had every intention of making her future husband aware of her position in this marriage of convenience and her position would never be subservient. Not for anyone, not ever.

#

Stoick and Gobber had made good on their promise to ground Hiccup and Toothless. The days had been agonizingly long for both dragon and rider, constantly under the guard of his own friends. The only one who didn’t take any pleasure in this duty was Fishlegs and Hiccup had pushed his limits as much as possible. It all ended, of course, when he’d persuaded Fishlegs to get him Toothless’ rigging. Hiccup should have known better, really. Fishlegs was simply not capable of lying, especially to the chief. After that, it was a steady rotation of the twins and Snotlout, the latter of whom took a perverse pleasure in his duty.

Still, Hiccup managed to give them the slip on occasion – send them on hopeless tasks so that he and Toothless could get away. For example, Snotlout was currently looking for Ruffnut on account of her (completely fictional) love note (that Hiccup had written). He was unlikely to find her given Hiccup had set her and Tuffnut on the impossible task of find a (completely fictional) Three-Horned Stippleback for a hefty (also fictional) reward of Destructive Dust Bombs (which, of course, Hiccup had not actually made, but had made very detailed blueprints and a big scene about them when the twins had been assigned to him the day before). And so, Hiccup and Toothless were alone on the cliffs high above the port, watching the speck of a ship approaching on the horizon, undoubtedly carrying the chief of the Meatheads and Hiccup’s (potentially bearded) bride.

Stoick had sent Camicazi back to the Bog after Hiccup’s Great Escape had turned into the Great Failure, not that she’d listened particularly well. Bertha had been engaged to take her home, which had involved a small army of Bog Burglars and quite a scene above Berk for two days. Eventually Hiccup had hollered up at her and told her to go home. Running wasn’t an option anymore; it never was. He’d all but resigned himself to his terrifying bride with a beard, even if Cami hadn’t given up just yet.

Hiccup had. Honestly, it was fitting that he would be saddled with a warrior wife. There was no way his father would want to leave Berk in Hiccup’s hands alone. There was no way he’d let him choose his own partner in life. If Stoick had chosen Astrid of the Meathead tribe, it was likely because she was stronger, better, and potentially smarter than Hiccup. Well, maybe not that last one. More likely, she was more of a Viking than Hiccup.

Hiccup was musing about how he might like having a wife who was smarter than him. It didn’t seem likely in this case. From what he knew about the Meatheads, if he was lucky, she’d be able to read and wouldn’t have much of a beard.

His eyes followed the ship on its steady progression toward Berk, a head-on collision with all his life’s plans. Maybe he wouldn’t have to give up his map and his flights. Maybe she’d prefer it if he was gone. Maybe they’d hate each other. As much as Hiccup wanted to believe that peace was possible, he found it highly unlikely that his Meathead bride would be such a pacifist. Or that she wouldn’t try to kill him in his sleep. It was probably in his best interest to spend as little time as possible on the ground.

As the ship grew closer, Hiccup could see the figures on the deck moving around and preparing to dock in the port. He should be down there. Stoick would be furious that he was nowhere to be found. Knowing this only made Hiccup shy away from joining his father at the docks. It was probably better anyway. He wasn’t sure he could keep his face in check when he met his bearded bride. He’d probably say the wrong thing and he wouldn’t have Toothless’ wings to save him from the wrath of the Meathead tribe.

Hiccup watched a girl on the bow of the ship, heaving ropes with strong arms. She was small for a Viking, like him. Slim, tall, but strong. Her hair shone like gold in the growing sunlight, woven in an intricate braid that fell halfway down her back. For a split second, Hiccup felt his hopes rise. Was this his intended bride? He hadn’t seen her face yet, she could be bearded, but at least she’d be small, like him.

He rolled his eyes. Of course she wasn’t his bride. She was helping on the ship; she was too small. A runt. Hiccup had been lucky, in a sense, that he’d been Stoick’s only child. If there had been another potential heir, Hiccup would have been run out of the tribe. He probably would have been a slave. Maybe with the Meatheads. And that’s probably what the girl with the shining hair was – a slave. She was dressed plainly except for the furs around her shoulders.

The girl turned, her gaze rising up the cliff to where Hiccup was watching. Hiccup’s breath hitched because even at this distance he could see her face – fair and beautiful, as if Freyja had fallen from Valhalla to bring in his bride. She seemed to see him up there, her eyes locked on his, her busy hands still. Someone shouted something and she tore her eyes away, busily helping the other Vikings on the ship.

Hiccup snorted to himself, his hand pressed against his chest as if to stop the rapid beat of his heart. Leave it up to Useless to fall for his bride’s slave.


	5. Chapter 5

There was a boy on the cliff. A boy with a Night Fury. At least Astrid thought that he was a boy. He was far too skinny and small to be the son of Stoick the Vast, so he must be Hiccup’s stable boy. Astrid shivered as she stared at the black dragon beside the boy, ominous in its presence. It could blast her boat to pieces. It probably would if she tried to run now.

“Astrid, take the up the rope. Don’t stand there gawking. You’ll have years to look at Berk’s cliffs.”

It was her father’s right hand man who spoke. Orvid the Ostensible, a man Astrid had known her whole life, making jokes about her unfortunate future. Astrid scowled and scooped up the ropes, tossing the line over the side of the ship in preparation to dock.

There was a crowd of Berkians waiting at the port and Astrid wiped her sweaty palms on her skirt. Years of ingrained hatred made the supposedly friendly gathering seem more like an angry mob. It was clear from their restless feet and pinched expressions that the Hooligans were as uncomfortable as Astrid felt. This crowd of strangers would be her tribe in a few short days. She would be married to the heir of Berk. The Pride of Berk, as he was so often referred.

As the boat inched in closer to the dock, Astrid spared a glance toward the cliff face, to where she’d seen the boy and the Night Fury, only to find it empty. Perhaps her groom planned to feed her to the dragon. Maybe this was all an elaborate trap. Astrid reached behind her back and squeezed the handle of her axe for reassurance. The head was hidden beneath her furs, but it was there – solidly strapped to her back, just in case she needed it.

There was an eerie silence as the ship approached the docks. Silence that was only broken by the soft lapping of water against wood. The Hooligans stared at the Meatheads, tension thick as the fog they’d arrived in. Astrid saw Stoick the Vast, his great, red beard unmistakable in the crowd. He was leaning over a short Viking with black hair and a horrified expression. Astrid’s stomach plummeted. Was that Hiccup? Was she to marry someone shorter than her, someone who cowered in Stoick’s presence?

Astrid straightened her spine and lifted her chin, looking down her nose at her future husband. He was attractive enough, she supposed, which was a positive she hadn’t counted on having. Despite his unfortunate height deficiency, he was built well – bulky biceps and solid shoulders. And, while on one hand, she didn’t like the way he seemed to snivel at his father, on the other, at least he’d be easy for her to control. She might not even have to slit his throat to get what she wanted. The thought cheered her considerably. A malleable husband was infinitely better than a difficult one.

“Stoick!” The Hoff boomed from behind Astrid.

Astrid kept her eyes on the Viking she’d assumed was Hiccup. He glanced at her fleetingly before turning and disappearing into the crowd. Astrid glared after him. Was that a slight? Could she start a war over that?

“Hoff!” Stoick bellowed back to her father.

The Hoff climbed out of the boat, sending it rocking precariously against the dock. Astrid stood still and watched as her father and Stoick the Vast embraced as though they were old friends and not sworn enemies.

“And where’s the Pride of Berk, Stoick?”

Astrid smirked. Where, indeed, had the horizontally-challenged prince run off to? Maybe this was it. Maybe she could stay on the boat while her father’s men raided Berk and declared war for a marriage contract broken. She could go home, be back for supper, even, and work on her lucrative career as a chief-in-training/shieldmaiden.

“He’ll be along, Hoff. But not before we get a look at the Most Beautiful Shieldmaiden in Midgard.”

Astrid’s expression darkened. She hated that title. Some no good Berserker had given it to her right after she’d sliced his face with her axe. Still, her father turned to her and gave her an expectant look.

“Astrid, come meet your new father-in-law.”

There was something in his tone that said: ‘and do it without starting a raging battle amongst our tribes.’

Astrid climbed over the edge of the boat, blatantly ignoring the several proffered hands that appeared to assist her. She stood solidly on the dock, next to her father, and looked Stoick the Vast straight in the eye. It was important that she establish just who she was and how she was to be treated from the very beginning. She would show no fear. Hoffersons were fearless.

The gathered crowd of Hooligans eyed her speculatively, a gentle murmur flowing through them. Astrid lifted her chin haughtily and stared back at them. Let them look. Let them see her as she was now, not wrapped in frivolous frocks and hanging off a man’s arm, but solid and steady on her own two feet. Ready for battle.

To her very great surprise, Stoick the Vast smiled at her. Beamed, actually.

“The stories are true of your beauty, Astrid, and I cannot wait to see your skill with the battle axe.”

Astrid blinked at her future father-in-law and glanced questioningly at her father, but he was already laughing cheerfully.

“I think you can see your son is getting the better end of the deal here, Stoick,” he paused and looked around. “Your son who has yet to greet us.”

His tone had changed, icing over in a way that made Astrid want to take a step away from him. Her father was well known for his instantaneous mood changes. Her tiny suitor should probably show his face before a war broke out. Or not. Astrid would prefer the latter option.

Stoick chuckled, a careful, measured sound. “I’m sure he’ll be along any minute. It’s not easy being the only dragon master in the Archipelago, Hoff.”

“Are you sure he hasn’t flown off?” Her father’s tone was becoming less and less amicable by the minute.

“He hasn’t flown off,” Stoick said, glancing over his shoulder with a furrowed brow. Astrid couldn’t be certain, but she thought she heard him mumble: “I’ve made sure of it.”

The short, black-haired Viking reappeared and Astrid expected her father to start his strangely good-humoured conversation again, loaded with unspoken tension and a hint of a threat, this time at the younger Hooligan.  
But instead of all this, the Viking-who-was-probably-Hiccup shrugged and shook his head at Stoick, who was turning an impressive shade of red. The other Hooligans were murmuring to each other again, disturbed by their chief’s state. Maybe they could feel edge of conflict fast approaching as the other Meathead ships appeared on the horizon. Astrid narrowed her eyes at the black-haired Viking.

“You’re not going back on the contract, are you Stoick?” The Hoff said coldly,

“Deciding to marry my daughter into your tribe for peace wasn’t an easy decision and I expect our contract to be honoured.”

Stoick glared at her father impressively and then turned toward the crowd of Hooligans. He grabbed the short Viking’s tunic and yanked him close.

“Find Hiccup. Now,” he growled through gritted teeth.

So he wasn’t Hiccup. If he wasn’t Hiccup, who was he to be so close to the chief? And if he wasn’t Hiccup, who was? Astrid’s hand reached around her back for her axe, ready to spring into battle at her father’s word. The other Meatheads followed her cue and did the same, unsheathing swords and readying axes. She watched as the Hooligans set their stances, hands on their own weapons. The Hooligans and the Meatheads were on the brink of warfare all because of a stupid marriage contract.

And then…the crowd seemed to part somewhere in the back, the Hooligans whispering and relaxing their stance.

“I’m here!” A nasal-intoned voice said from somewhere within the crowd, “I’m here, Dad.”

The black-haired Viking let out a sigh of relief and Astrid realized that her future husband had just appeared. She frowned as she waited for him to arrive. Shorter than most of the Vikings, but taller than the black-haired Viking, Astrid could only catch glimpses of auburn hair as he moved through the crowd. Finally, the last two Hooligans parted to let Hiccup through and Astrid had to blink several times. He was tall and thin with wild auburn hair and a square jaw. He looked nothing like Stoick the Vast and yet looked clearly like Stoick the Vast.

“Sorry, Dad,” he said with a roll of his thin shoulders.

Astrid had seen him before. He was the boy on the cliff. The stable boy.

#

Hiccup made his way down the cliffside slowly, dragging his feet and sighing the entire time. He couldn’t say that he’d spent a lot of time imagining his wedding, but never once had he envisioned being married off to a bearded Meathead for the good of the tribe. He should have. He really should have. But, he hadn’t and it was difficult to just stroll over to the docks and pretend that he was okay with this whole arrangement.

And now he’d gone and gotten himself an instant crush on his intended’s slave. Just great.

Hiccup’s hand landed lightly on Toothless’ nose as they neared the docks. He paused and leaned against the rock face, listening to his father and the Hoff. They were locked in their typical pissing contest of who was better than whom, an argument that always made Hiccup roll his eyes. Neither of them were better than anyone when they started in with that nonsense.

Toothless warbled quietly beside him, pressing his nose into Hiccup’s hand.

“I know, bud,” he whispered, patting the dragon.

Hiccup looked longingly at Toothless’ bare tail and the empty space where his prosthetic tail fin should be. They could run, still. Hiccup could jump on Toothless’ back, they could find the rigging (Hiccup suspected it was in his father’s bedroom), and they could get out of here before he was a saddled with a bride and responsibility and a whole extra tribe to worry about. They could do it.

They could do it and there would be a war and Hiccup would have blood on his hands. That was the truth. Hiccup sighed again, giving Toothless one last pat.

“Better go home, Toothless. My bearded bride’s tribe doesn’t trust dragons. Now is probably not the time for them to meet you.”

Toothless gave Hiccup a sympathetic look.

“Go on. I’ll see you later,” Hiccup said, smiling weakly, “If I survive.”

Toothless’ first few steps were slow, unsure, but Hiccup waved him on and he scurried out of sight in a trot.

Hiccup turned and listened hard. Things were seemingly escalating. He could hear it in his dad’s voice; he could hear it in the Hoff’s voice. Stalling any longer would only make this much worse. Hiccup straightened his back and stepped into the crowd.

“I’m here!” he called as he weaved through his people, each of their faces turning from worried anticipation to bright, relieved smiles. It was always like that. The weight of the whole damn tribe was on Hiccup’s shoulders already, but now it was a hundred times worse. Now his actions would control the well-being of not just one tribe, but two. And while he appreciated the importance of the peace between the Hooligans and the Meatheads, he would miss his freedom sorely.

“I’m here, Dad!” he called again.

The crowd parted for him and the first thing he saw was the angry glower on his father’s face. Hiccup bit back a sigh (gods, all he did was sigh now). His father was disappointed in him. What else was new?

“Sorry, Dad,” he muttered.

“See? Here he is, Hoff,”Stoick boomed, a big smile on his face. He wrapped his arm around Hiccup’s shoulders and squeezed a little too tightly, a reminder to Hiccup that he was being held to his word. “I’m sure he has a good reason for being late.”

“Ah, you know how it is, Dad. Saving the world one dragon at a time!” Hiccup offered lamely.

He hoped the Meatheads would buy it even if no one from Berk would. Or so he thought, surprised by the sudden cheer that came up behind him. He still wasn’t used to that, even after all these years. People cheered when he walked into a room. It made him not want to walk into rooms at all.

Stoick frowned at him, but it was a quick as lighting from Thor’s hand, dissolving into a beaming smile. “Maybe the lovebirds should meet,” he suggested.

Hiccup shot his dad a grimace. Lovebirds? His bearded wife-to-be and him? Lovebirds? Hiccup looked up, scanning the Meathead crew for a glimpse of his tragic future. Right before him was the Hoff, tall, wide, glowering. It wasn’t his fault; it was just his face. And to his right was the girl from the boat. The slave girl. The breathtakingly beautiful and, oh gods, up close was even worse, Freyja incarnate. Hiccup forgot to breathe when he looked at her. Her eyes were wide and sky blue. They dropped from his face, trailed down to his feet – foot, lingering there for a moment, before riding back up his body again.

“You’re Hiccup?” she asked, as if she couldn’t help herself.

Hiccup frowned, taken aback by the strength of her voice and the utter disbelief in his words.

“Now, Astrid, is that any way to greet your future husband?” The Hoff asked, chuckling and shrugging at Stoick.

“Wait,” Hiccup said, his eyes locked on her, “You’re Astrid?”

There was a moment of complete and utter silence before the laughter of Stoick and the Hoff filled the docks, ricocheting off the cliffs and reverberating through the air. Several dragons flying overhead were startled by the noise.

“This is going better than expected,” Stoick chortled.

“Practically in love already,” The Hoff agreed, dropping his hand down on his daughter’s shoulder, knocking her ever so slightly off kilter and earning himself a glare. 

He didn’t notice. He was already wrapping his beefy arm around Stoick’s even beefier shoulders, laughing about how they would have grandchildren before next harvest. Normally Hiccup might have been embarrassed by that kind of talk, but right then all he could do was stare at his intended bride. Who was not bearded. Nor huge. Nor Meathead-like. She was incomprehensibly exquisite and that was somehow much, much worse. Much more terrifying.

She crossed her arms and cocked her hip, blue eyes assessing him (and probably finding him wanting, at the very least, for a left foot).

“You’re not what I expected,” she said.

The dock was disconcertingly silent, the bulk of the crowd having followed the two chieftains into the village and leaving Hiccup alone with his bride.

“Is that a…bad thing?”

Astrid huffed, her eyes meeting his. “I haven’t decided yet.”

Hiccup considered telling her that they weren’t lying when they said she was the Most Beautiful Shieldmaiden in Midgard, a title Cami had convinced him was completely fictional and one hundred percent ironic, but thought the better of it. People probably told her she was beautiful all the time and something about her stance told Hiccup she likely didn’t appreciate it. She wasn’t trying to be pretty. She wasn’t trying to make a good impression. She was staring him down.

There were really two ways this could go. They could hate each other or they could…not. And Hiccup hadn’t really considered that second option until now. 

“Well,” Hiccup said with a shrug, “Maybe I can convince you.”

Astrid smirked. “That it’s a bad thing?”

“Maybe,” Hiccup said, taking a step forward, “Or maybe not.”

Astrid narrowed her eyes. “And how are you going to do that?”

Hiccup tried to control his smile, taking another small step toward her. He paused when her stance became less relaxed. He hadn’t forgotten about her Shieldmaiden status. Bearded or not, she was still fearsome. “Let me show you around Berk. Tell you about dragons.”

Astrid’s face hardened. “I’m not sure I want to listen to anything you have to say.”

Hiccup grinned, unable to stop it. This was something he was used to – resistance and negotiation. Convincing people. And the dragons did most of the work for him, really.

“Then I won’t speak,” he said, holding out his hand to her, “Just let me show you.”

Astrid looked at his hand and back to his face, assessing. Always assessing. She drew in a long breath and walked past him, completely ignoring his hand.

“Fine,” she said quietly.

Hiccup smiled and bit his bottom lip. Maybe this marriage thing wouldn’t be so bad after all.


	6. Chapter 6

The first thing that Astrid realized about her intended was that he wouldn’t stop talking.

She didn’t know if he was nervous or if he legitimately never shut up. He told her about Berk. He told her about the dragons. He told her about the feeding stations, the grooming stations, and the fire extinguishing system that had been set in place. Astrid wasn’t entirely sure how she felt about his non-stop chattering. He was certainly unlike anyone she’d ever met before.

They paused on the edge of the village, under the gaze of the curious Berkians, and Astrid fought the urge to glare at all of them; to grab her axe and wave it menacingly at them. She’d been tasked with a truly difficult feat: to make her enemies like her. Well, maybe they didn’t have to like her, but she was supposed to live amongst them, so it seemed to Astrid that it was in her best interest to make a concerted effort not to kill their heir in a fit of misplaced fear.

Astrid swallowed heavily, her eyes scanning the unfamiliar village and meeting the gaze of unfamiliar people. They could kill her, if they wanted to. They could eliminate her. She glanced at Hiccup, still talking away, and caught sight of the sharp relief of his jaw. He was attractive, even if not conventionally; he was friendly. He could have a dozen lovers in the village. It wouldn’t be unusual for the son of a chief. In fact, it was practically expected. Astrid’s hands tightened into fists at her sides as she skimmed the crowd for younger faces, young women who might have a stock in the marriage of their heir. Threats.

“Are you okay?” Hiccup asked.

Astrid turned to him, the sunlight reflecting through the green of his irises, his brow furrowed in concern.

“I’m fine,” she said. She willed her shoulders to relax and her hands to open, just slightly.

Hiccup pursed his lips at her and turned back to the village, his eyes scanning the town centre and all the village folk who were now stalwartly pretending that they hadn’t just been staring at them. He released a nearly inaudible huff of breath before turning back to Astrid and offering her a smile. He motioned to the pathway behind them.

“Maybe we should keep going,” he suggested.

Astrid nodded at him tightly, her eyes scanning the crowd again and falling on a group of young people. People her age. People the age of her intended. Three boys and a girl, all watching with interest. Astrid recognized the short, black-haired Viking from the docks. He was staring at her and Hiccup with a scowl. Astrid narrowed her eyes at him.

“Friends of yours?” she asked Hiccup, her eyes never leaving the group.

“What?” Hiccup asked turning. The entire group of them all looked away. “Oh. Yeah, let’s meet them later.”

Astrid looked at him and caught the nervous rise and fall of his shoulders and the quick movements of his hands; she realized for the first time that maybe Hiccup was just as far out of his element as she was. Sure, he had the home turf advantage, but he didn’t really seem comfortable using it. Astrid had met many potential suitors in the past and they often used their position and the people around them to make themselves look better. Hiccup hadn’t even introduced her to another person. It was certainly curious.

“What’s next?”

As soon as the words left her mouth, she wanted to snatch them back. They were too easy, too familiar. He was disarming her while she still had her axe strapped to her back.

Hiccup grinned at her. “You’re going to love this,” he said, walking down the pathway he’d set them on.

“With all due respect, you have no idea what I like or don’t like,” Astrid said dryly, but with no malice behind it.

Hiccup looked over his shoulder at her and his grin widened. “Everyone loves Toothless.”

Astrid stopped, mid-step. “Toothless?”

Hiccup paused, head tilted, auburn hair ruffling in the cool ocean breeze. “My dragon. He’s a Night Fury.”

Astrid crossed her arms and raised a dubious eyebrow. “You named your Night Fury Toothless?”

Hiccup laughed. “You’ll see.”

He was walking again. Walking and talking incessantly about everything they passed. “That’s the Great Hall. And that’s the path to Mildew’s farm. And…”

Astrid felt a smile creep onto her face without warning. “You’re not what I expected.”

Hiccup stopped talking instantly and looked at her. No, not at her. He looked past her. He looked toward the ground, toward his feet (foot). He looked anywhere that wasn’t directly at her. It made her want to grab his chin and command his complete attention.

“I get that a lot,” he sighed, with a weak shrug, “My whole life, actually.” He slipped into a faux accent,micking his father’s voice, “Hiccup, why can’t you be more like your cousin? Hiccup, when are you going to grow a beard? Hiccup—“

Astrid laughed. She couldn’t help herself. The last thing she expected Stoick the Vast’s son to do was impersonate him in order to aid his self-deprecation. She walked up beside him, her hand falling onto his arm so naturally, as if they’d been friends for years and not enemies until very recently.

“I never said it was a bad thing,” she said.

Hiccup’s eyes went to her hand on his arm and Astrid realized, quite suddenly, what she had done. She snatched it back and killed her smile, although she had a hard time keeping her face neutral when she looked up to see the faintest of grins tugging at his lips when their eyes met. Astrid looked away and squared her shoulders. This wasn’t a love match. She didn’t know him. But she did know that Berk had been raiding their islands for eons. She knew that these people were her enemy. She would do well not to forget it, marriage contract or not.

“You said something about a dragon?” she said.

Hiccup smiled at her broadly. “Like I said, you’re going to love him.”

#

Hiccup’s heart hadn’t stopped pounding since he’d left the docks with his (decidedly beardless) future wife. He wanted to do everything right, but he had no idea how to do everything right. He’d done everything wrong his whole life. He never even considered that he should need to do something right for once.

Still, she’d said it wasn’t a bad thing that he wasn’t what she expected. Still, she’d touched his arm. He could practically hear Camicazi now, telling him he was an idiot and that Astrid would undoubtedly sprout a beard by spring. She’d probably have a few other (wildly inappropriate) things to say about his decision-making abilities in the face of a beautiful girl. She probably wouldn’t be wrong.

But the contract had never been his idea. He was stuck. Although maybe he didn’t mind being stuck anymore. (Even Hiccup recognized that this was a terrible way to make a decision and he wondered, absently, if he would have been so quick to give up if Astrid had had a beard.) Despite all this, he had to try, didn’t he? The proposed peace between the Hooligans and the Meatheads was hinging on this arrangement.

Hiccup looked at Astrid, the straight line of her shoulders and the stubborn set of her mouth. There was more to her than a pretty face and maybe that was more important than anything else. Hiccup had been given an opportunity, not just to make peace and not just to have an (unexpectedly beautiful) wife, but to have a partner. To change minds. Astrid Hofferson was a leader to her people. If he could win her over, he’d have far more luck winning over the Meatheads as a whole. And with two villages of dragon riders that he could directly influence, the possibilities for widespread peace grew exponentially. This was a real chance to make a difference and that was why he had to make it work. (Or at least this was what he would tell Cami when she accused him of being a lovestruck idiot.)

Marching onward, Hiccup grinned in satisfaction. Even if Astrid wasn’t impressed with him, Toothless would win her over. As long as her first experience with the dragon was positive, everything would be just fine.

“Where are we going?”

Hiccup’s eyes snapped to Astrid, caught off-guard by the husky notes of her voice. She blinked back at him, eyebrows raised.

“Oh, uh. My hall. I mean, Haddock Hall. Which I guess is really our hall,” he was babbling now and he couldn’t stop, “Well, maybe not yet but it will be though I think—“

Astrid laughed and Hiccup’s heart sped at the sound, wide eyes locked on the wry half-smile on her lips. “Okay! I don’t need the whole sordid history.”

“Nothing’s sordid about it yet,” he quipped before he could stop himself.

Astrid’s eyebrows shot up and Hiccup thanked all the gods above that she hadn’t torn the axe she had strapped to her back off and cleaved him in two. “Someone has high hopes.”

“No! No, I don’t. That’s not…It’s… Astrid, I’m sorry. It’s my mouth,” he said frantically, flailing his hands, “It just does whatever it wants and I can’t stop it.”

Astrid snorted and rested her hand on her hip. “So I’ve noticed,” she said dryly.

Hiccup winced and bit back another apology. It wouldn’t do any good to follow her around apologizing all the time. He was what he was and it was pretty clear that there was no changing that now. He opened his mouth to say something undoubtedly stupid and wrong again, but was stopped short when Astrid’s eyes went wide.

“Get down!” she shouted, tackling him to the ground.

Hiccup twisted to see Toothless bounding toward them and grabbed Astrid’s arm just in time to keep her from burying her axe in the dragon’s side. Hiccup thumped Astrid’s wrist into the ground hard and shoved her axe out of reach, jumping to his feet and holding his hands out – one toward Toothless and one toward Astrid. The dragon was agitated now, growling at Astrid, eyes narrowed and teeth present. This was not the Toothless Hiccup had been hoping to introduce to his Meathead bride, fresh from a land that feared dragons immensely.

Looking over his shoulder, he caught Astrid’s eye. She’d grabbed her axe again and was glaring at Toothless, breathing heavily.

“Astrid,” he said slowly, “Please put down the axe.”

“No way.”

“The only reason he’s reacting like this is because he’s scared,” Hiccup said soothingly.

Toothless surged forward and Hiccup pressed his hand into the dragon’s nose, keeping him at bay. “Toothless, no. Astrid is a friend.”

Hiccup looked to Astrid somewhat desperately, “Astrid, please. The axe. He won’t hurt you.”

Astrid’s eyes betrayed the fear she’d been keeping carefully in check since they’d met on the docks. Wide, sky blue terror behind a wall of steel.

“I have no reason to trust you,” Astrid said very clearly and slowly.  
Hiccup flinched, just slightly. And here he’d thought everything had been going so well. But this was what he was good at; this was his talent. He’d make her understand.

“You’re right,” Hiccup conceded, turning his back to Toothless and ignoring the way the dragon nudged his back urgently, still maintaining a low growl, “You don’t. We’ve been at war for, well, forever. As long as I can remember.” Hiccup shrugged helplessly. “We’ve all been at war with dragons even longer. It’s a vicious cycle of kill or be killed. But it doesn’t have to be. And it doesn’t have to be between us, either. I’m not asking you to like me. I’m not even asking you like Toothless,” he said, patting the dragon on the nose, “I’m just asking for a chance to show you what life could be like if we work together.”

He held his hand out to her, a peace offering. Toothless warbled curiously in his ear, but Hiccup kept his eyes on Astrid. He watched her eyes as they moved from his face to Toothless’, her axe still aloft, her stance still battle-ready. Camicazi wasn’t wrong when she said she was a fearsome warrior. Hiccup didn’t particularly enjoy being at the potential receiving end of her axe (although since he was, he was noticing that the blade was in serious need of work).

“I won’t hurt you,” Hiccup said softly.

Astrid scowled at him. “It’s not you I’m worried about.”

Hiccup grinned. “Toothless won’t hurt you either, but he’s understandably not fond of weapons.”

Astrid faltered, just slightly, her eyes moving to her clenched hands on the handle of her axe and back to Hiccup’s face. Her expression was hard. “If anything happens to me, all of Berk will be massacred.”

Though her words were heavy with threat, Hiccup knew she was yielding. He smiled at her. “I have no interest in war.”

Astrid frowned at him and relaxed her stance, pulling her axe forward casually, but not letting it go. Hiccup could feel Toothless relaxing along with her. This wasn’t exactly how this was supposed to happen, but the situation was salvageable. Astrid swallowed, her eyes on his as she brought the head of her axe to the ground. Hiccup nodded at her and after a moment’s hesitation, she dropped the weapon completely.

Hiccup glanced over his shoulder at Toothless, “Okay, bud?”

Toothless warbled contentedly, head tilted curiously, suddenly a very different dragon. Hiccup stepped out of the way and Astrid took a nervous half-step backward. Hiccup closed the distance between them and held his hand out for hers.

“May I, milady?”

Astrid’s eyes searched his, seeking out the trick. She must have been satisfied that there was none because she slipped her hand into his, as tentatively as a bird, ready to take flight in an instant.

“Come here, bud,” Hiccup said to Toothless.

Astrid tried to pull her hand back as the dragon moved closer, but Hiccup held her still with the shake of his head. She shot him a scathing look, but stayed with him, letting Hiccup pull her hand in alignment with Toothless’ nose. The dragon sniffed her hand and huffed, shooting an expectant look at Hiccup.

“Astrid, this is Toothless. Toothless, Astrid,” he said.

Dragon and woman stared at each other with obvious distrust and Hiccup held his breath, praying to all the gods that existed that Toothless would just do his part without a fuss. He’d never caused a problem before, even in the face of several axes, but those times had been different. Those times they’d been able to just fly away. They were stuck here, all three of them, so they may as well learn to get along. At least, that’s what Hiccup hoped for. Hiccup and Toothless shared a long look. Please, bud, Hiccup thought.

Toothless let out a long, soft warble and closed his eyes, pressing his nose into Astrid’s hand. Hiccup’s intended bride gasped, her body going rigid at once and then gradually relaxing as she cautiously rubbed her palm along Toothless’ scales. Hiccup’s smile grew as Astrid’s was just being born – a smile of wonder, one that Hiccup never grew tired of seeing, one that told him he’d been successful, at least on some small level.

Astrid’s eyes met Hiccup’s, her hand still on Toothless’ nose, and she smiled fully. “Okay,” she said softly, “I admit it. He’s pretty amazing.”

Hiccup grinned widely. If she thought this was amazing, just wait until he got her up in the air.


	7. Chapter 7

Astrid bore the ministrations of the seamstress with patience, her attention drawn to the activity in village of Berk visible through the window. They were a surprisingly peaceful people given what she’d grown up learning about them. In fact, she would even go so far as to say they were far more peaceable than her own people back on the Meathead Islands. And the dragons. Dragons, everywhere.

“You look nice for a change,” a familiar voice said from the doorway.

Astrid smirked but did not look away from her view through the window. “Well, it is my wedding dress after all.”

Heather crossed the room and stood beside her, eyeing Astrid with interest. “I’m surprised you’ve agreed to this so readily.”

Astrid snorted softly. “Yeah, so readily that I’m locked in my room in my future father-in-law’s hall.”

“Still,” Heather said thoughtfully.

Astrid glanced at her and found cool, thoughtful green eyes locked on her face. Heather hadn’t met Hiccup. She’d only caught small glimpses of him and knew only of the reputation that he had amassed amongst their own people. A reputation that Astrid hadn’t seen any evidence of being true. Hiccup had only been kind, friendly, talkative and humble. He was not proud or haughty as other future chiefs that she had met. He was not violent or seemingly dangerous. Perhaps that’s what made Hiccup dangerous – his enemy’s tendency to underestimate him.

As though on cue, Hiccup’s voice filtered up through the window, nasal-intoned and distinctive. Astrid’s attention was drawn back toward the window. She found him quickly, tall and lean as compared to his people, a wild mop of auburn hair on his head. He wore a red tunic and the light caught his metal foot. Truthfully, she didn’t know what to think of Hiccup, she’d spent such little time with him. Despite the fact that she, her father, and their people were staying with the Chief of Berk and his son in their own hall, she and Hiccup had not been afforded any time alone since the day her ship landed. She had to wonder why, but if she had to guess she would surmise that her father still didn’t trust her not to run.

“You like him,” Heather said, her words incredulous.

Astrid scoffed. “I barely know him.”

“You’re watching him.”

Astrid glanced at the seamstress, who was biting back a smile and glancing up at her. A Berkian who was hearing too much. Astrid narrowed her eyes at the woman, her smile disappearing instantly, and then turned her eyes to Heather, glaring in warning.

“I’m looking out the window,” she said through gritted teeth, “I can’t help it if he passes by his own hall.”

Heather smirked knowingly but said no more.

Astrid didn’t know if she liked Hiccup. He was certainly different than she had expected and the differences although unusual were not bad. He talked too much, but he was clever and thoughtful. He set himself apart from his people, but not by way of arrogance or pride. He was uncertain and his uncertainty both comforted and worried Astrid. And she had seen the flicker of strong leadership in his negotiation skills and the seamless way he could disarm her with simple words and his inordinately large green eyes. She could see it in him now, below her window, directing his people with a smile and laugh, his Night Fury constantly beside him.

The seamstress made a final adjustment and directed Astrid out of her would-be wedding dress. She regretted that it was being done in such haste and not by the thoughtful hands of one of her own people, but that was her doing. When she’d left the Islands, she had still been looking for a way out. Now that she was here, she saw no way out. Or perhaps she wasn’t looking very hard anymore.

As she stepped out of her gown, she glanced out the window again and watched Hiccup waving his arms wildly at the smaller, black-haired Viking Astrid had seen in the crowd when she’d arrived. He was riding a Monstrous Nightmare and pretending he couldn’t hear Hiccup, which only served to make him gesticulate more wildly.

The door clicked as the seamstress left the room and Astrid stepped closer to the window, watching her future groom with carefully discerning eyes. She wasn’t sure what to make of him and what he wanted from her. She wasn’t sure of anything anymore.

“I heard the contract negotiations went well,” Heather said conversationally, tossing Astrid her tunic.

Astrid replied with a non-committal sound, her eyes still locked on the young man with the Night Fury.

“Why doesn’t he just fly away?” she murmured to no one.

“Maybe he doesn’t want to,” Heather answered, her voice too close to Astrid’s ear, drawing her back into the present.

She shot her friend a dubious look. “He’s a dragon rider.”

“Maybe he can’t then.”

Astrid frowned. She hadn’t seen him get on the back of that dragon once since she’d arrived and she’d seen him on the edges of their battles before, never joining but always on the outskirts. The Night Fury had become an omen of bad times ahead on the Meathead Islands and Astrid wondered what that meant when it came to their union.

She watched as his shoulders slumped and he sighed. Astrid smiled at his physicality. At least she would always know what he was feeling. She’d never seen a man so emotive, so willingly on display at all times. He ran a long-fingered hand through his hair and glanced up at her window over his shoulder.

Astrid’s heartrate increased unexpectedly as their eyes met. His face seemed to go slack at the sight of her, his eyes slipping from her face only for an instant and reminding her that she was standing in the window in nothing more than her bindings. She pulled her shirt up to her chest, but stayed where she was, watching him until he offered a weak smile and an open-palmed wave.

“Well,” Heather said, leaning her chin on Astrid’s shoulder, “I think we know why he doesn’t fly away.”

Astrid stepped away from the window and dressed quickly, ignoring Heather’s comment and subsequent laughter. Her heart wouldn’t cease its quickened pounding and her mind ran in circles. She wasn’t supposed to feel anything for her Berkian groom. She wasn’t supposed to like the way he looked at her. He wasn’t supposed to have any power over her at all. Locked doors or not, Astrid was going to have to find a way to talk with him before the wedding and to make herself very clear to Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third.

#

Hiccup had trouble looking at Astrid that evening because when he did, he saw her without her clothes. He saw creamy, pale skin and gold hair catching in the light. He couldn’t look at her because then she would know, she would see it in his eyes and then she would kill him. The stories about his not-bearded future wife had spread through Berk like wildfire and he hadn’t been able to avoid them. No matter how her (unexpectedly gorgeous) exterior looked, Astrid Hofferson was a fearsome warrior, as Camicazi had promised, and Hiccup didn’t really want to die.

At least not before his wedding night.

Hiccup felt heat rise to his cheeks at the thought and he stared hard at the mutton on his plate while his father and the Hoff chortled loudly about all the benefits of the upcoming union of their tribes. They didn’t seem to notice that Hiccup and Astrid were people, or maybe they just didn’t care. Hiccup stole a glance down the table at Astrid, his heart jumping uncomfortably in his chest. She was (thankfully) staring at her own plate and scowling, leaning her elbow on the table, her cheek on the knuckles of her fist.

The raven-haired Meathead girl who’d come on the later ships caught him looking, her sharp green eyes bouncing between him and Astrid. She nudged Astrid with her elbow, earning a glare from the blonde. Then she pointed. At Hiccup. He felt like a Gronckle in the torchlight, every thought and flaw exposed as those blue eyes fell upon him. She wasn’t supposed to do that – to take his breath away and freeze his heart. Hiccup wasn’t afraid of anything anymore (except he was. He really, really was).

The magic of the moment was shattered when Stoick the Vast whacked Hiccup hard in back, laughing loudly about…something. Hiccup hadn’t been paying attention. It was hard to pay attention with the knowledge that in a few short days he and Astrid would be married. And then…and then. Hiccup forced himself to stare at the wood grain of the table and not to think about the and then anymore.

After another wordless dinner (between the Hoff and his father, the most he and Astrid had said to each other was “pass the mutton” and “do you want any salt?”), Astrid and her dark-haired friend went up to their rooms for the night leaving Hiccup to the mercy of the gathered men of Berk and the Meathead Islands.

He glanced longingly up the stairs and sighed. He was going to marry a stranger. A beautiful stranger, but still. He was going to marry a stranger without knowing a single thing about her beyond her reputation. And for all his worrying and hoping about their wedding night, he knew it would probably end in him sleeping on the cold, hard floor alone while his standoffish warrior wife glared at him with wide blue eyes.

Or it wouldn’t.

Hiccup bit down hard on his bottom lip and pushed away from the table, taking deliberate steps toward the front door.

“Hiccup!” his father called after him.

Hiccup winced and sighed. “Yeah, Dad?”

“Where are you going? You can’t just leave our guests!”

Hiccup looked around quickly and grabbed a jug off the table. He held it aloft. “Just getting some more mead!”

There was an uproarious cheer from the table, but Hiccup knew he wasn’t fooling his father who was already frowning at him. Hiccup offered him a hopefully convincing grin, but it only seemed to deepen Stoick’s frown. Hiccup shrugged nervously.

“Might take a while since I have to walk,” Hiccup said, emphasizing that he and Toothless were still grounded.

His father released a sigh that Hiccup recognized as reluctant acquiescence and Hiccup hurried out the door before his dad had a chance to change his mind, the sounds of the dinner muffled by the heavy wood as the door closed behind him with a dull thud.

The night air was cool and clear, stars radiating down from the black sky above. Hiccup looked up and sighed. It was a perfect night for flying and again he felt the pang of longing to jump on Toothless’ back and feel the wind through his hair. He did his best thinking in the sky and grounded as he was, he felt more than a little lost.

Toothless sidled up beside him from the shadows around the house and Hiccup grinned, tossing the jug he’d brought out on his imaginary mead run on the ground and patting the dragon on the nose.

“Hey, bud. Sorry you’re stuck out here all the time.”

The Meatheads presence in their hall had meant that the dragons needed to stay out. The other tribespeople didn’t trust dragons nor did they truly trust the Hooligans, both of which were things Hiccup hoped to change soon. If he could win over Astrid, then she could help him win over her tribe and there would be one more dragon-friendly place in the archipelago.

“Let’s go,” he said softly to the dragon.

Hiccup didn’t know where he was going, but he knew he needed to get away from the hall. From Astrid and her eyes like the sky. From the Meatheads that brought so much noise into their normally quiet home. From the weight of his responsibility. He and Toothless walked in perfect silence, the dragon’s light feet soundless in the late summer grass, until Hiccup found himself back up on the cliff where he’d first seen Astrid, wild-looking and strong on the deck of a Meathead ship.

“A slave,” he snorted to himself.

He should have known better.

Lowering himself down on the edge of the cliff, he let his feet dangle as he stared out into the endless black sky, listening to the roar of the waves crashing against rock below.

“This is Berk,” he murmured as though to reassure himself of who he was and what he was doing.

Toothless’ head twitched suddenly and Hiccup glanced at the dragon, frowning. “What’s up, bud?”

He turned his head, his eyes widening as they locked on the intruder. Dressed in the same warrior garb she’d arrived in, Astrid Hofferson stood behind him, tall and majestic in the full moonlight.

“Astrid!” Hiccup said, struggling to climb up to his feet, his metal prosthetic foot catching on the slippery rock and sliding out from under him, pitching him backwards dangerously over the edge of the cliff.

Hiccup’s mind rapidly jumped from the solid knowledge that his Night Fury would save him to remembering that his Night Fury was currently unable to fly and then to the certainty that he was going to die falling off his favourite cliff three days before his wedding to the daughter of his enemy. And just when he was making peace with that last thought, his eyes squeezed shut in anticipation of the fall, he found himself suspended and unmoving.

Hiccup’s eyes fluttered open and he stared back at Astrid in wonder. There was an instant, a brief second, when Hiccup realized that Astrid could simply let go of him. There was a distinct possibility that killing him was the only reason she’d agreed to this marriage at all and he’d just presented the perfect opportunity. He could feel her hesitation, but he could also feel the steady pressure of Toothless’ head against the small of his back, nudging him upright just as Astrid yanked him forward herself. The end result was Hiccup colliding directly into Astrid’s chest, his bride stumbling but never losing her footing.

Hiccup looked down at her just as she looked up at him, her hand still fisted in the front of his tunic. She swallowed audibly and released his shirt, but didn’t move. Neither did Hiccup. He was sure Astrid, his not-bearded, beautiful, fierce, terrifying bride could hear his heart pounding in his chest.

Hiccup released a nervous laugh. “For a minute there, I thought you were going to let go. Quick and easy way to get out of an arranged marriage.”

A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “I’ve never been fond of easy methods.”

Hiccup laughed again, uneasily. He wasn’t sure if she was joking or not and thought it was best to change the subject.

“Were you following me?”

Astrid looked away and shrugged, stepping back from him. “Just making sure you weren’t out having any clandestine meetings I should know about.”

“Meetings?” Hiccup laughed, “With who?”

Astrid shrugged again, this time with more conviction, and directed her gaze right at him. “A lover?”

“A lo-love—lover?” Hiccup sputtered.

Toothless warbled mockingly and laid down, shooting Hiccup an annoyed glance.

“Wha—why—why would you think–?”

“Oh, come on,” Astrid said, stepping around him, “The son of the chief. The Pride of Berk. You must be fighting girls off.”

Hiccup opened his mouth but absolutely no sound came out as he looked back at Astrid Hofferson, her eyes holding a challenge. His mouth flopped open and closed a few times. He didn’t even know what to say about that.

“Well?” Astrid persisted, spinning around to face him.

Hiccup drew in a sharp breath. “There’s no one, Astrid. There’s only—”

Astrid frowned. “Only?”

Hiccup shrugged helplessly. “You.”

The hard expression on Astrid’s face fell away. She looked away, tucking her bangs behind her ear.

“Me?”

Hiccup shrugged, his shoulders rolling unstoppably. “Yeah, I know. Pathetic, right? I’m sure I’m not what you expected, you’re probably disa—”

“You’re not,” Astrid said sharply, cutting him off.

Hiccup looked at her, her steely eyes locked on his.

“You’re not what I expected,” she said, her voice softening, “But like I keep telling you, that’s not a bad thing.”

She took a step toward him as she said it and before Hiccup had a chance to really think about it, he mirrored her step and moved closer to her, his heart speeding against his ribcage.

“Is it,” Hiccup started and then stopped, worried he’d overstep.

Astrid raised her eyebrows in question.

“Is it a good thing?” he asked, his voice a near whisper.

Astrid took another step forward, her eyes searching his. “I’m not sure yet,” she said.

Hiccup raised his hands, palms up and rolled his shoulders. “Well, what can I—”

He didn’t get to finish his question, not before Astrid Hofferson reached up and tugged his head down and pressed her lips against his. It was a soft thing, a chaste thing, but it was something. Astrid stepped back, her eyes wide. She seemed as surprised as he did that she’d kissed him.

She’d kissed him.

“I think it might be,” she whispered.

Hiccup blinked at her. “What?”

“A good thing.”

She said the words so quickly that they collided into each other and by the time Hiccup had digested what she’d said, she was already gone, running back down the cliffside and into the village. Hiccup touched his bottom lip, powerless to stop the smile that grew across his face.

BONUS:

Astrid ran all the way back to Haddock Hall and leaned her back against the cool wood wall, her breaths coming in rapid pants. Her fingers came up to her lips and she shook her head wordlessly. That was not what she’d intended to do at all.

Still, she couldn’t say she was sorry.


	8. Chapter 8

It had taken Hiccup several attempts to escape the dinner after Astrid had punched her kinsman in the face for his crude comment. He’d had to endure several off-colour jokes about how she was bound to be a firecracker in the sheets and Hiccup was expecting either her father to slaughter everyone in the room, or at least to aim solely for him. Instead, the Hoff laughed and Hiccup had to leave.

Because Astrid was a person. She was someone who was stronger and smarter and deserved better than to be the unwitting butt of other people’s cruel jokes. Hiccup knew what that felt like all too well.

And because it was a good opportunity to talk to her. To know her. To let her know him. He just wasn’t exactly sure how to do that.

In the end, he’d climbed out a window while his father was distracting the Hoff with some nonsense story about his own mother that Hiccup had no interest in hearing. Ever. In his entire life. He grimaced at the mere thought. Toothless had slipped around the corner to meet him and support his dangling feet during the escape.

“Thanks, bud,” Hiccup whispered.

It was better outside, quieter. Hiccup could hear himself think again. He was getting married tomorrow, or at least he should be provided Astrid hadn’t flung herself into the sea in an attempt to flee their upcoming nuptials. He wouldn’t blame her if she did. The idea of marrying a stranger was scary, and it only grew more terrifying as the appointed hour crept closer.

Still, he wouldn’t have her thinking that he believed the things those men had said. Whether she wanted him or not, whether she hated him or not, he wouldn’t have her think that of him. And he wouldn’t hold it against her if she ran. (Although his father would, undoubtedly, and they’d be back at war with the Meatheads in minutes.)

Hiccup didn’t know where to look for her. She hadn’t made many, if any, friends in Berk (not that he could blame her), so there was no obvious place to start. Hiccup sighed, looking toward the town centre and seeing no sign of her golden hair. He turned and glanced up toward her window, ever reminded of the time he did so and saw too much, but the room was dark. Besides, she’d run out the front door.

Toothless nudged him with his nose and Hiccup smiled, patting the dragon’s head.

“I don’t know where to look, bud,” he murmured.

Toothless nudged him again and then bounded off toward the woods.

“Toothless! Wait! Hey! What’s going on?”

Hiccup broke into a jog, following Toothless’ trail, but he lost him at the edge of the forest, where the sun was long gone and only darkness resided. Hiccup rolled his eyes and kicked at the long grass.

“That’ll teach me for having a black dragon,” he muttered. Cupping his hands around his mouth, he shouted: “Toothless!”

A pair of bright green eyes appeared and Hiccup sighed. “There you are. What are you doing, bud? I need to find Astrid. We don’t have time for this.”

The Night Fury bounded around him, bouncing with latent energy. Hiccup was sorry they hadn’t been able to fly. It wasn’t fair to Toothless far more than it wasn’t fair to him. Although he could use a good flight right now to clear his head.

He wasn’t supposed to like his fearsome warrior bride. She was supposed to have had a beard and been brutish and awful. And despite not knowing her well, he could tell she was none of these things. Not a fragile, delicate princess, but neither a hardened, unfeeling fighter either. He was sure there was even more to her. He was sure there were things he’d never understand about her, too, like, for example, the fact that she’d kissed him.

Hiccup’s fingers slipped up to his lips unconsciously as he remembered the hasty, spontaneous peck in the darkness. He wasn’t expecting it, but he hadn’t been expecting her to save him from tumbling over the cliff, either.

Toothless nudged him hard and warbled loudly, knocking Hiccup from his reverie.

“What, bud?” Hiccup barked.

The dragon gave him a hard shove, pitching him forward onto his knees at the base of a tree.

“Toothless, honestly—“

Hiccup’s words froze in his mouth because there, at the base of a tree just inside the treeline, was Toothless’ rigging. Hiccup ran his hand along the saddle which only served to increase the longing he felt for the wind in his hair and the weightlessness of flight. Irritation with his dragon forgotten, Hiccup laughed.

“Must have been Tuff’s turn to hide it, huh, bud? All the better for us.”

Toothless could barely contain his excitement as Hiccup saddled him up.

“A good, old-fashioned flight is just what we need, right, bud?” Hiccup murmured.

Hiccup had one leg in the stirrup when he heard it – an angry, feminine grunt coming from the copse of trees to the west. He narrowed his eyes at the sound and caught sight of a head of moon-silvered blonde hair in the darkness. Astrid. He grinned and slid from the saddle, taking a few steps forward.

“You know who else could use a good, old-fashioned flight, bud?” he whispered.

The dragon all but rolled his eyes and nudged Hiccup very hard, sending him stumbling through the bushes. Hiccup turned back to Toothless, a broad smile on his face.

“Alright, alright. I’m on it.”

#

Her axe landed in the tree trunk with a satisfying thump for the sixth time, splinters spewing from the point of impact. At least Berk had a lot of trees, she’d give them that. Plenty of places to vent her frustration in a non-lethal way. At home, she’d have to rig something up just to throw her axe and by the time she’d done that, the urge had passed. This was much more satisfying.

Astrid didn’t know what she’d been expecting. Vikings weren’t any different on Berk than they were on the Islands. They were crass and loud and generally uncouth. She was used to it, used to fighting twice as hard just to be acknowledged for her skill as a warrior, even despite being the heir to the tribe. She was ten times the warrior that Barnacle Brandon was, but that didn’t stop him from making his statement. And it hadn’t stopped the gathered men from laughing about it.

Well, all of them except Hiccup Haddock. He had burned bright red in embarrassment and had the good grace to keep terror in his eyes when he looked at her.

Astrid gritted her teeth and stomped over to the tree, wrenching the axe from the wood with a grunt. She knew her father and Hiccup’s father saw it as an innocuous comment, but it was enraging to her that she be reduced to the butt of a joke, the faceless female in a wedding night quip. She flexed her hand, knuckles sore and swelling from the punch she’d landed on Brandon’s jaw.

“Totally worth it,” she muttered.

She walked back to her starting point, cocking her arm back again to let the axe fly. She intended to throw it until her muscles gave way and she was too exhausted to be angry at the fact she was marrying her enemy tomorrow. Even if he didn’t seem as bad as she had thought; even if, on occasion, she might like him a little.

The wedding night scared her, truth be told. She knew all there was to know, but she was worried about small details her friends and other women in her life had mentioned.

“Lie back until it’s over,” her Aunt Bertha had told her.

Astrid wasn’t exactly the type to lie back and take anything, so she couldn’t see how that was useful advice.

She never wanted this. Sure she’d dabbled with Eret, but that had been safe. She’d been in control. He knew better than to push her too far against her will. Would Hiccup? Or would he, like the men at the table, assume it was his right and her duty? Maybe war couldn’t be stopped with this marriage; maybe it was just getting started.

Astrid thought about the ships in the harbour. She was an accomplished sailor, she could probably make a run for it, in the interest of peace. Maybe she could fake her own death. She’d have to let Heather know so she could act the part and distract her father. When she showed up alive and well on the Meathead Islands, he’d be so happy to have her back that he’d forgive her transgressions. Especially something as small as starting a war with Berk (and was it really starting a war if it was already ongoing anyway?)

Her hand paused on the handle of her axe, tightening and then loosening to readjust her grip. There was one very small problem and his name was Hiccup. Astrid wondered what would happen to him if their marriage agreement fell through. In the past, she would have assumed that he would be the ringleader in seeking revenge for being a jilted groom, Hel bent on claiming her blood for his own. But that was before she met the skinny, mild-mannered young man with the Night Fury that was more like a giant cat than a savage reptile.

That was before she kissed him.

Astrid’s cheeks flamed, heat rushing to her skin, and she was glad no one was around to see her. They’d all laugh at that, too, and wrongly assume that she was a blushing virgin, ripe for the taking. Astrid let her axe fly with newfound fervour and grinned darkly as the blade imbedded itself deeply in the tree. She was no man’s prize, whether she’d kissed him or not. She was not Hiccup’s any more than she had ever been Eret’s. She was her own.

She would not be taken by anybody.

Astrid struggled with her axe, tugging on it, bracing one boot against the base of the tree and yanking the blade free with a guttural growl. Her arm pitched backward with her effort, but she stayed it as quickly as she could.

“Whoa!”

Astrid spun and jammed the blade into the throat of the unexpected intruder, ready to slice off their head. She blinked when she saw Hiccup Haddock, green eyes fixed on the blade, hands up in supplication. She pulled the axe back, but only slightly.

“What do you want?” she hissed.

Hiccup looked at her and attempted a small smile. “I just…I wanted to make sure you were okay?”

He posed his words like a question and Astrid scowled. “I’m fine. I can take care of myself,” she muttered, dropping her axe to her side and stalking away from him to line up with the tree again.

Hiccup followed her, the metallic creaking of his prosthetic obvious in the quiet of the woods in a way it wasn’t in the village. She knew exactly where he was. Without another word, she lined up and let her axe fly.

“Wow,” Hiccup said as the axe made deep contact again, “I don’t think that tree is long for this world.”

Astrid shot him a murderous glare that she hoped told him he wouldn’t be long for this world if he pushed her too far.

“Is there something you want?” she asked, hand on her hip and eyes narrowed, “Come to take what’s yours?”

Hiccup’s eyes widened and his mouth fell open, just a little as he shook his head unconsciously.

“I…wouldn’t, I mean…I—“

“Good.”

They stared at each other and Astrid liked the edge of fear in his eyes. She liked that she frightened him. It made it so much easier to hide her own fears.

“Astrid, that wasn’t,” he paused, frowning, “I’m not like them.”

Astrid cocked her head. “Oh really? You’ve never thought about—“

“Yes! I mean, no! I didn’t! That’s not—They don’t speak for me!”

The crudeness of the joke still lingered in Astrid’s mind, rolling around like a poison and making her want to vomit. Fueled by an anger she couldn’t quite control, she stepped forward and grabbed the front of his tunic, just like she had the other night. The night she kissed him.

“Listen to me, Hiccup Haddock, I may be marrying you, but don’t think it’s because I want to and don’t you dare presume that you own me.”

Hiccup’s eyes widened fully and he shook his head. “I would never.”

“You better not.”

“I don’t! I just—“

“What?” she hissed.

Hiccup swallowed audibly, his eyes locked on hers. “It wasn’t my choice either,” he said softly, “But I hope one day we can be friends. At least.”

Astrid’s hands unfurled from his shirt and she fought the urge to smooth out the wrinkles she’d left in her wake. She frowned at him and noticed for the first time that his Night Fury was trailing behind him, and that it was wearing a saddle.

Astrid frowned and looked past Hiccup to the dragon. She glanced up at her would-be husband (tomorrow, in fact, if all went to plan).

“You’re going to run?”

“What?” Hiccup asked, sounding genuinely surprised, “No, I—“

He paused to shake his head, a soft smile on his lips.

“What?” Astrid asked.

His eyes found hers again. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

She should have been angry. She should have given him a solid punch to the jaw, like she had Brandon. She should have been worried about what he meant. But she wasn’t. If anything, it had sent a thrill through her.

“Then what?” she persisted, refusing to look at him, “Were you going to have your dragon murder me?”

Hiccup laughed. “That seems counterproductive.”

Astrid glanced at him, the moonlight playing at the creases around his smiling mouth in a way she didn’t find altogether unpleasant.

He took a step back and rested his hand on Toothless’ head. “I wanted a chance to show you that we aren’t all bad. Or at least Toothless and I aren’t.”

Astrid tilted her head. She was already sold on the dragon, but the man was still so unknown to her.

“What do you mean show me?”

Hiccup’s grin widened and he hopped onto the saddle of the dragon, extending a hand to Astrid. “Just, let me show you.”

Astrid had always trusted her instincts; they’d never led her astray. She could stay here on the eve of her wedding to a stranger and throw her axe at a tree, or she could take his hand and let him show her…whatever it was he wanted to show her. She shook her head slowly, even as she extended her hand to meet his. There was something about Hiccup Haddock that defied all logic and may Hel herself strike her down, she was going to go with him.


	9. Chapter 9

Under normal circumstances, Astrid would have been annoyed by the tugging at her hair and the pulling at her waist. She would have been snappish and angry, horrified at her circumstances. She should have been. She was being prodded into a wedding gown, her hair tugged into a mass of intricate braids. She was marrying a stranger.

Despite the odds, Astrid grinned. Just yesterday, she wouldn’t have wanted anyone to think she was going into this arrangement willingly. She wouldn’t have wanted to give her future husband any ideas about who she was to him, nor let him build up any expectations. Hel, just last night, she was as angry as a Monstrous Nightmare at the prospect of being married and being the butt of jokes.

But that was before Hiccup had found her in the woods. That was before she’d flown on the back of a dragon.

The door to her room flew open and Heather came marching in, her hair braided neatly. She wore her best dress and Astrid’s eyebrows shot up. Heather scowled.

“Don’t start with me, Astrid,” she growled, stomping over to the bed, “You should see yourself.”

It was true, Astrid supposed, that she was being primped and primed for something she didn’t want. She had never intended to get married and the arrangement had been done without her knowledge or consent. Maybe that was why she’d gotten on the back of that dragon without her father’s knowledge or consent.

Heather threw herself backward on the bed. “You look like a lamb to the slaughter,” she offered helpfully.

Astrid smiled, all teeth. “This lamb will do the slaughtering.”

The woman attending her tugged her hair hard in shock and Astrid rolled her eyes. If she’d wanted to kill Hiccup Haddock, she would have done it already. He’d presented plenty of opportunities. Even last night she could have thrown him off the dragon’s back, although that likely would have ended in her own death, too.

“You’re really going through with this,” Heather murmured.

“A little late for your disbelief now.”

“I just…I thought you’d meet the heir of Berk and kill him, quite honestly.”

One of the women in the room gasped in horror. Astrid scowled at Heather.

“I don’t want to kill him.”

“Anymore,” Heather amended.

Another sharp tug on her hair and a frightened glance from the woman attending her gown. They were going to run straight to their chief and Astrid was going to end up invariably dead if Heather didn’t stop. Astrid narrowed her eyes at her friend.

“Could you—“

“Sorry, sorry. I’m only kidding around,” Heather explained half-heartedly to the tight-lipped women in the room.

The two women eyed Astrid suspiciously and hurried out of the room without a word. Astrid glowered at her friend.

“Thanks. They’re probably off to tell Stoick the Vast to have my throat slit in the night.”

Heather pushed herself up onto her elbows and grinned. “Doesn’t sound likely after what I heard.”

Astrid looked away, suddenly interested in her sleeves. “What did you hear?”

“Oh, just a little rumour about a pair of lovebirds who flew off in the night on the back of a dragon. The same dragon a certain heir to Berk wasn’t even supposed to have.”

Astrid glanced at Heather. “Who did you hear that from?”

“Uh, Stoick the Vast? He was screaming at Hiccup for an hour or so, just after sunrise? But I could barely hear it over the sound of the Hoff, screaming at you, so…”

Astrid released a sigh. So all of the Hooligans and all of the Meatheads on Berk knew that she’d snuck off with her fiancé for a late night dragon flight. The control she’d been building over the situation was dwindling. She wished she cared but… Flying on the back of a dragon had been unlike anything she’d ever experienced. And Hiccup… Well, she trusted him far more than she should have, if she were being honest with herself. He made her feel comfortable. He made her feel like she belonged. He made her feel like maybe – just maybe – marrying him wouldn’t be the worst thing that could happen to her.

“So, what was it like?”

Astrid stared out the window, her eyes trained on a cloud. She’d flown through clouds last night, with her arms around Hiccup’s narrow waist. She’d held a cloud in her hand – or at least tried to, it had dissipated into little more than tiny water droplets against her fingertips. She’d seen the stars up close and personal. She saw Berk from the sky, the lights of the village glittering in the darkness. She’d felt weightless and free, as though all of the responsibilities that had kept her solidly on the ground for so long were just gone.

She’d felt alive and Hiccup had given that to her.

Astrid didn’t bother to fight the smile that pulled at her lips.

“Unreal,” she murmured.

She turned her eyes on her friend and shrugged. “Magical.”

Heather’s smug expression fell away as she looked at Astrid. “You’re going to marry him today.”

Astrid thought of Hiccup and his lopsided grin and green eyes, of the nervous way he buried his fingers in his windblown hair, of the freckles on his nose. He wasn’t what she’d been expecting at all. He was much, much better.

She nodded.

“And you’re not going to run,” Heather said. It wasn’t a question.

Astrid thought about it – really thought about it, her brow puckered in concentration. She thought about the way Hiccup talked too much, about the nervous twitch of his shoulders, the way he’d apologized for things he had no control over. He wasn’t like anyone she’d ever known. Not even Eret, whose respectful distance had always been barely reined in. Hiccup was open, readable, and vulnerable. It could be a trap to lull her into complacency, but Astrid didn’t think so. It didn’t seem to fit.

She blinked at Heather, still frowning as the realization hit her. “I’m not going to run,” she said, “I don’t want to.”

#

Hiccup watched his father stomping around his room, each heavy step punctuated with a hard thump and a huff of air. He was mad, but when wasn’t he mad? Stoick paused in his pacing to look at his son. Hiccup recognized the expression on his face: one part confusion, one part exasperation, two parts massive disappointment. Stoick shook his head and resumed stomping around. He was crushing Hiccup’s matrimonial cloak in his giant hands.

“You know, that took Mrs. Ack three days to make—“

“Hiccup!”

Hiccup winced and his mouth snapped shut. Stoick tossed the cloak at him and stood, towering, before him.

“I can’t believe you would risk the contract like this. Do you have any idea how important this agreement is? We’re ending a war here!”

“Yeah, I know,” Hiccup said, standing up and slipping under his father’s arm, fastening the clasp of the cloak around his throat. “I’m the one marrying a Meathead, if you remember.”

Stoick growled unintelligibly and Hiccup turned, shrugging.

“What’s the big deal? We came back.”

“What’s the big deal?” Stoick roared.

Hiccup winced once more and tried again. “I mean, Astrid and I flew around Berk. It was like a… pre-wedding tour of all her lands.”

He was immediately sorry for his wording.

“All her lands? Hiccup, the contract clearly states that Berk is yours and belongs to your heir.”

“Well, isn’t my heir also hers? I mean, technically?”

“Hiccup!”

“What?! We’re here,” Hiccup said, throwing his arms wide, “Nothing happened! We’re getting married, just like you wanted.”

“And where is Camicazi?”

Hiccup frowned and shrugged. “I don’t know. On a ship with her mother, presumably? You kicked her off Berk until tonight.”

Stoick’s hands came down on Hiccup’s shoulders heavily, his expression falling into full on negotiation mode. “Listen, Hiccup. I know this isn’t what you wanted, but think about this. Astrid is beautiful—“

“And terrifying.”

Stoick glowered. “And she’s the heir to the Meathead Islands. With your marriage, you’re saving both tribes, Hiccup.”

Hiccup frowned, his brow crumpling in confusion. “Dad, look at me. I’m all dressed up and ready to get married.”

Stoick took a step back and finally looked at Hiccup, from the fine leather boot on his foot, to the fitted trousers and finely woven red tunic, and the now slightly crumpled cloak around his shoulders. He’d even brushed his hair for the occasion. But, instead of being delighted that his son was displaying the appropriate decorum befitting of a future chief, Stoick only frowned severely and glared at Hiccup with distrust.

“You are,” he said slowly, stroking his beard. He paused a breath before narrowing his eyes. “What’s the catch, son?”

“What?”

“Up until a week ago, you and Camicazi were plotting your grand escape. Don’t think your little attempted exploits haven’t gone unnoticed. So, what’s the catch, son?”

“Dad, seriously? Don’t you think I would have run last night?”

“With Astrid?”

Hiccup just raised his eyebrows as though this would make his point clear. Because the thing was, he liked Astrid Hofferson. He still didn’t know her well, but he’d felt her against his back last night, the way her tense muscles had relaxed once they’d climbed into the clouds. He’d felt the wonder in her when her hand touched the clouds. He’d felt her cheek, warm and solid against his shoulder. And he’d wanted more of her. Because there was more to her. With Astrid by his side, they could bring peace to the whole archipelago. They could change minds and strengthen the bond between dragon and Vikings alike.

“Hiccup,” Stoick sighed, clearly exasperated, “You better not be planning anything stupid. The whole balance of our people—“

“Dad!” Hiccup interrupted, holding up his hands, “I know, okay? And I’m not planning anything besides marrying Astrid. Really.”

Stoick stared at him as though trying to ferret out his secrets with a look. Hiccup shrugged again, the fur cloak heavy on his shoulders and shifting with the movement. Stoick drew in a long breath and released it slowly. He reached out and straightened Hiccup’s cloak and patted his shoulders, his eyes locking on Hiccup’s

“Really?”

Hiccup hadn’t thought it would be possible, but it was somehow. Astrid wasn’t what he expected. She was certainly not bearded, although she was a fearsome warrior. But she was also smart and thoughtful and sensitive. Not to mention she was a walking incarnation of Freyja, intent on stealing his soul with her clear, blue eyes. Honestly, marrying Astrid seemed like the least of his troubles.

Hiccup nodded, smiling faintly. “Really,” he said, “I want to.”


	10. Chapter 10

After a fairly traumatizing morning of tradition and ceremony that he could have done without, Hiccup was more than ready to get the wedding over with. In fact, marrying Astrid, despite the fact she could easily slit his throat in the night with his family’s own ancestral sword was far preferable to having to hear embarrassing sex advice from Spitelout any day. He’d never wanted to know how Snotlout was conceived, and now that he did, he only hoped that he would be able to drink enough mead to forget it. Forever.

Before they stepped out of the house, Stoick stopped Hiccup at the door, his hands heavy on his shoulders. He grinned at Hiccup, warmer than usual. If Hiccup didn’t know any better, he might have thought his father was proud of him. (He did know better. That was a statistical impossibility at this point.)

“I’m proud of you, son.”

Okay, so, sometimes statistics lie.

“I never thought I’d see the day when you were married,” Stoick continued, beaming in a soft way.

Hiccup frowned at him. “Gee, thanks, dad. I’m not sure if that’s a jab at my ability to survive past puberty, or a commentary on my prowess with women.”

“Both,” Tuffnut stage whispered from somewhere behind.

Hiccup rolled his eyes.

“I’m glad you stuck around this week. You’re doing a service to the tribe, Hiccup,” Stoick said, patting Hiccup’s shoulders again.

Hiccup was a bit uncomfortable with the praise given how many times he had both planned and tried to leave. The truth was…well, the truth was that this wasn’t about Berk, or the Meathead Islands. This wasn’t about peace. Okay, it was, but it was also about Astrid. It was about the connection he felt with her – an impossible, unrealistic connection with a girl so wholly unlike him, so different, and yet somehow there was a kinship there. They were kindred. Hiccup wasn’t sure he would have stayed if she hadn’t been…well…her.

And he barely knew her. And it was very possible she could slit his throat tonight in their marriage bed. Or strangle him with the bed linens. Or…not. Hiccup’s breath caught as his mind strayed to the upcoming wedding night and he tightened his hand around the sword he held to snap himself out of it.

“Well, thanks, I guess.”

Stoick wiped a tear from his face and Hiccup stared at him incredulously. “Come on, let’s go get you married.”

As always, as soon as the door to the house opened, a deafening cheer began in the crowd. Hiccup gave the Berkians tight smiles as he walked down the paths he had grown up wandering, making his way to the centre of town where Astrid would be waiting. Maybe. Unless she’d run off after he dropped her off this morning.

As Hiccup and his procession drew closer to the center of town, there was a marked increase in Meatheads, and a decrease in cheering. The atmosphere of the island was one of chaotic tension with the lingering promise that something could go very wrong at any point. And if it did, there would be blood in Berk. A wave of nervousness came over Hiccup – there were so many ways that he could screw this up, so many bad omens that could be perceived, and what was worse was that he himself wasn’t sure this was a good idea. Astrid could kill him. She hadn’t yet, but she could. She…she…she…

She was standing right there, in a deep blue gown, her golden hair loose and long down her back, the ends curling gently, an elaborate crown of blue and orange flowers set on her head. Her hands were wrapped around the hilt of her family’s sword and when Hiccup looked into her face, her beautiful face, the tension running through him seemed to dissipate. The corners of her lips quirked upward, just barely, and Hiccup couldn’t stop his own tiny smile. He crossed the remaining space between them and stood across from her.

“You look amazing,” he breathed.

He squeezed his eyes shut as soon as he realized that he’d not only said his thoughts out loud, but that they sounded so lame. Hiccup heard Astrid’s huffing laughter and cracked his eyes open, wincing. She was smiling, genuinely amused. She leaned forward just barely.

“You don’t look so bad yourself.”

Hiccup’s smile was an uncontrollable thing. “You ready for this?” he asked.

Astrid swallowed. “Not really.”

“Me neither.”

Astrid’s lips quirked up again. “Too late.”

“Yep,” Hiccup agreed, straightening his shoulders, “But since we’re here, all dressed up…”

Astrid smirked. “Ready to save our tribes from never ending war.”

“Among other things.”

They shared a long look, a look in which Hiccup wasn’t exactly sure what was happening aside from the fact that he was slipping down some long, potentially dangerous rabbit hole with Astrid Hofferson of the Meathead tribe that would dictate the tone of the rest of his life. And…well, looking into those blue eyes, he didn’t quite mind. At the very least, she didn’t have a beard, and maybe dying at her hand on their wedding night wouldn’t be such a bad way to go, in the grand scheme of things. This could…well, it could be something good, maybe.

“Let’s do this,” he heard himself say, holding out a hand to her.

Astrid hesitated, her eyes on his proffered hand, but then she unwound her fingers from her sword and reached across to him.

Just as the tips of their fingers brushed, there was a familiar rustle of dragon wings in the air above them. The crowd looked up, horrified, the Meatheads drawing their swords as Astrid pulled her hand back and lifted the ancestral sword of her family upward, as though she were about to go into battle.

“I object! If this wedding continues, I’ll declare war on all of Berk!” a familiar voice called out.

Hiccup didn’t have to look up to know who it was. Instead, his eyes slid shut and he grumbled, “Gods, no.”

#

Just when Astrid thought that she could go through with this, that marrying Hiccup Haddock wasn’t the worst possible option she had available to her, this had to happen. The gold dragon seemed to slither in the air above them, its rider a tiny blonde girl with wild hair.

“Camicazi,” Astrid growled, “Of course you’d ruin my wedding day.”

“Of course you’d ruin my life,” Camicazi spat back, “Walk away from this if you want to live.”

The little rat had the gall to draw her own sword and Astrid scowled. She was better with an axe, but she could make this work. Camicazi might be an expert swordswoman, but Astrid wasn’t too bad herself. She could win this.

“Come down on the ground and say that,” she said.

Her fighting stance wasn’t great in this gown. The skirt didn’t offer enough space to move, but still, there was no way Astrid would back down from a fight. Not with Camicazi and certainly not on her wedding day.

“Hey, guys, could we—“ Hiccup tried to interject.

“Shut up,” both girls spat.

“I’ll have her blood,” Astrid said, glaring at Camicazi.

The other girl laughed. “Oh, you’ll try. I see you’ve shaved your beard for the occasion.”

“Oh gods,” Hiccup groaned.

The crowd around them erupted into chaos, weapons brandished and fighting happening all around them. So, this was how it was to be, then. Just when Astrid was starting to think there might be something in this marriage, something worthwhile and special, this had to happen. The thought crossed her mind that Camicazi was objecting because of some promise between her and Hiccup. Astrid wasn’t sure why, but the very idea made her stomach twist and muscles clench. He’d told her there was no one. Had he lied? And if he’d lied about that, what else had he lied about?

“Stop,” Hiccup said, his voice lost in the cacophony.

Astrid saw him dart away, climbing the dais where they were to be married. And then…

“STOP! EVERYONE STOP!”

It wasn’t Hiccup’s impressive call for inaction that made everyone stop what they were doing, though. It was the resounding roar of his dragon that accompanied it. Toothless let loose a roar that shook the ground they stood on and drew all eyes to Hiccup.

“Thanks, bud,” Astrid heard Hiccup murmur.

“There won’t be any war,” Hiccup called out, “This marriage was arranged to end wars between our people and with the dragons. I’m asking Camicazi to respect this and to renege her declaration so that we can continue with what will be a monumental joining of the Hairy Hooligans and the Meathead tribes.”

Astrid blinked at him, seeing for the first time the heart of the chief that resided within. Drawing in shaky breaths, she realized he was right, of course. This wedding was called to end the wars, not start a new one, and as the future chief of the Meatheads, she should be calling for her people to stop, as well. Astrid lowered her sword and stepped out of her fighting stance. She climbed the dais and paused a step lower than Hiccup, looking up into his earnest face before taking the final step and standing beside him.

She looked out into the crowd, now scattered in disarray, the beauty of the festivities trampled underfoot all because of one, silly Bog girl.

“My Meathead brethren, I ask the same. That you cease this fight with our Berkian allies and allow our tribes to be joined as intended.”

Astrid glared at the girl on the dragon, but found her staring at Hiccup instead.

“Seriously, Hiccup?” Camicazi said.

“I told you, Cami.”

“And I told you I would.”

Hiccup released a sigh. Astrid turned to him, a strange fury rising in her chest. She wanted to tell herself that it was born of anger from a lie, but it seemed born of something else, too. She didn’t want to know that Hiccup had lied to her. He’d said there was only her and she wanted it to be true.

“What’s between you?” she barely whispered.

Hiccup turned to her, green eyes wide. “Cami?” he shrugged helplessly, “She’s my best friend. We’re not… there’s nothing.”

Astrid studied his face and found it hard to believe he was lying. She didn’t want to believe it. She wanted to marry him, to stop the war, to do good for her tribe. But she also wanted that tiny hint of potential happiness she’d felt with him in the last few days, the broad sense of promise that existed between them. She wanted to believe in a Hiccup and Astrid that would be more than an arranged political marriage.

Camicazi landed her dragon in front of them, a scowl on her face. Astrid’s hand curled around the hilt of her blade, her attention drawn away from Hiccup again. Camicazi shot her a dark look and then turned her gaze to Hiccup.

“If you’re sure this is what you want,” she said, her voice gentler than Astrid had ever heard it.

Hiccup looked at Astrid and smiled before turning back to Camicazi. “It is. We might not know each other very well,” he said, glancing at Astrid and lingering, “But I’d like to think we could get to know each other and—“

“And, gross,” Camicazi interjected, miming sticking her finger down her throat, “Leave it up to you to fall in love with a Meathead in a few days.”

“L-lo-love!” Hiccup choked on the word, his ears turning an impressive shade of red.

Astrid looked at his reddening face and fought the urge to laugh, until Camicazi glared at her and scoffed.

“You’re just as bad. I thought you were fearless and fearsome, but you’re just as lovesick,” she grumbled, rolling her eyes, “Disgusting.”

Astrid narrowed her eyes at Camicazi, directing all her attention to her rage and not the fact that there was heat rising to her cheeks. Love? Of all the ridiculous, munge-headed, stupid ideas that Bog girl could throw around—

“Fine,” Camicazi conceded, shaking her head, “But neither of you come whining to me if your dumb ‘political’ marriage doesn’t work out. I don’t want to hear about it.”

“There is nothing I don’t do perfectly,” Astrid growled.

“Whatever,” Camicazi said, “Oh, and Astrid? You look better with your beard.”

“You—”

“Cami!” Hiccup snapped, “Stop. Please.”

Camicazi looked at Hiccup, her scowl still firmly in place, and released a long sigh. “Fine,” she muttered, turning around to face the crowd, “War is off! Everyone pretend to like each other again so these idiots can get married!”

There was a disappointed, grumbling murmur that spread through the crowd, but weapons were put away and Vikings of both tribes, plus those invited of their allies, stooped to pick up damaged decorations and set them back in place.

Stoick the Vast and the Hoff climbed the dais, adjusting their helmets and cloaks. They glanced at each other, embarrassed to have been so easily riled and to not have thought to stop the fray as their children had. Astrid watched them carefully, cognizant of the look that passed between them.

“Good work, son,” Stoick mumbled.

From the look on Hiccup’s face, Astrid assumed praise wasn’t given out freely in the Haddock home. It explained a lot about the way Hiccup carried himself, about the humbleness he presented. The earnestness.

“Astrid, you are wise,” the Hoff said fondly, “As always.”

The two chieftans looked at each other and nodded. Astrid looked to Hiccup and he offered her a small smile, his cheeks still stained with a splotchy, pink blush. She smiled and fought against a strange urge to kiss his cheek. She turned on the dais, facing her father and Hiccup’s, and held out her free hand to Hiccup. When he turned, he glanced down at her hand, startled. He looked her in the face and smiled, grasping her fingers in his.

Whatever this was and whatever it would be, they were going into it together – a team.


	11. Chapter 11

They’d done it; they’d actually done it. They were married. _He_ was married. To Astrid Hofferson. A Meathead. Hiccup smiled to himself, mead coursing through his veins, making him feel warm and happy. He looked to his right, to where Astrid was sitting. Astrid, his _wife_. Sweet Thor, she was beautiful (with no hint of a beard to be seen). He could do worse. He could do so much worse.

He watched her as she talked with the dark haired girl – Heather, her friend. The firelight danced against the pale fibers of her hair resulting in a halo of gold around her already heavenly face. Hiccup could watch her all night. He could watch her forever. Astrid laughed and the sound rang in his chest like a bell. He hadn’t heard her laugh before and he was glad to know that she was capable of it. It was an unexpectedly bright sound. A playful sound. A sound that made Hiccup smile involuntarily – or maybe that was just the mead. His cup was never empty no matter how much he drank.

Hiccup leaned his cheek on his hand, the weight of his head becoming increasingly more difficult to hold up with the warmth of the mead pushing down on his lazy muscles. He was tired, but not, because, as previously stated, he could watch Astrid all night. Heather’s eyes slid from Astrid’s face to Hiccup’s and she shot him a sly grin before saying something he couldn’t hear to his wife and getting up.

His wife.

Astrid looked over her shoulder at him and Hiccup sat up straight, his movements so abrupt that he sent his mead flying off the table. In a matter of seconds, his cup was retrieved and refilled, but Hiccup barely noticed because Astrid was looking at him and _smiling_. It wasn’t a big smile, but it wasn’t a mocking smile either. It was small, and somehow real. More real than anything. He almost believed that she was happy to be sitting there, beside him.

He knew he should say something – something witty or smart or complimentary. He should say anything and stop staring at her like a creep.

“We’re married,” he settles on stupidly, the words muddled on his mead-addled tongue.

Astrid’s smile shifted and he recognized the amusement in it. She twisted her body to better face him, crystal blue eyes tracing his face. Then she glanced at the half-empty mead cup in her own hand, tilting it and watching the liquid flow around the edges. Her eyes found his again.

“You don’t drink much, do you?” she asked.

Hiccup swallowed and winced, shaking his head. No, he didn’t drink much. Maybe it wasn’t the best of things to admit to his wife on his wedding night when he was already, very clearly, drunk, but it was too late for that. Something in the back of his mind told him that he should be careful, that she was his enemy before she was his wife, but Hiccup told that something to be quiet because he remembered the way she had looked at him and helped him and held his hand while they’d stopped yet another war from breaking out at their own wedding.

That had happened. He’d been there.

Getting married.

To Astrid.

She huffed a laugh so quiet it was inaudible above the din of the feast; the cacophony of laughter and chatter that reverberated against the walls of the Great Hall while both their tribes ate and drank in honour of their wedding.

Their wedding.

Hiccup swallowed hard as he stared at Astrid’s breathtaking face, lit by the orange glow of firelight. After the feast, there would be… He’d have to… They’d have to… He lifted the cup to his lips involuntarily and Astrid frowned, her hand darting out and plucking it from him with ease. Hiccup blinked in confusion at his empty hand.

“Maybe you should slow down with the mead,” she murmured. “There’s still ceremony to complete and we can’t do that if you’re unconscious.”

A cold dread spiked through Hiccup and he was tempted to reach out and grab the cup back, to down the contents and get even drunker. He’d never really given his wedding much thought – not the hypothetical one he was sure he’d have _one day_ , nor this more immediate one that he’d sought to escape until very recently. He’d always leaned on the concept of _one day_ , as in ‘one day in the distant future’, or ‘one day to Cami with no expectations’. He wasn’t quite sure how he felt about one day being today.

“Ceremony,” he repeated in a whisper.

Astrid looked at him and bit her bottom lip. Her eyes slid to the content of his cup and to her own. Then she drank them both in rapid succession, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

“Yep. Ceremony,” she repeated, staring straight ahead.

Hiccup blinked at her profile and almost laughed as the realization hit him. Was she as scared as he was of tonight? Of the…expectations? They’d both agreed to this marriage out of duty to their respective tribes, but was it possible she hadn’t thought about the details of tonight either? (Though admittedly it was difficult for Hiccup to avoid the details given the sheer amount of acquired knowledge he had about the sex lives of half the village of Berk now.)

“Astrid,” he started.

“Hiccup, can I talk to you?”

The voice came from below the dais and Hiccup looked over the edge of the table to see Cami standing in front of him, her expression sharp and clearly not addled by alcohol.

“Anything you have to say to my husband, you can say in front of me.”

Astrid’s voice was as cold as the glaciers that cut through the northern sea and Hiccup’s attention was drawn to her face. Her eyes were hard, her mouth an angry gash across her pretty face. He started to reach out, wanting to wipe that expression away when Cami’s voice cut through the din.

“ _Hiccup_.”

Hiccup blinked and shook his head, frowning. He pulled his hand back in – Cami was right, he should know better. His wife was Astrid Hofferson. She might be the Most Beautiful Shieldmaiden in Midgard, but that should never distract him from the facts. She was a fearsome warrior, even without a beard. He looked at Cami.

“Okay, yeah, sure,” he mumbled, climbing up from his chair despite the scowl that displayed itself on his wife’s face.

His _wife_.

“I’ll be right back,” he told Astrid. Her expression softened a little when she looked at him, but hardened again when she glanced at Camicazi.

Cami had already started weaving through the crowd, dodging flailing arms and feral tankards in the air. Hiccup stumbled and struggled to keep up with her.

“Cami!” he called after her.

She didn’t stop until they were at the pillar on the opposite side of the room, the one Hiccup had managed to jam the ceremonial sword into quite impressively. He had to thank Cami for all those sword fighting lessons. They’d really paid off; he’d have an adequately lucky marriage, though mostly he was glad not to have made a fool of himself.

“Hiccup,” Cami said, her voice sharp enough to draw his attention to her small, angry face. Once she was sure she had his attention, she continued, “You’re unbelievable.”

“I hardly think that’s fair,” Hiccup replied on instinct, though he wasn’t sure what he was arguing. He could taste mead on his tongue and his body buzzed with it; his head was alive with it.

“You’re _drunk_. Do you want to _die_?”

Hiccup blinked at Cami, uncomprehending. “What?”

Cami rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “You just married a Meathead,” she said very slowly, as though it was the only way she could get through to him. It might have been, giving the way his head was swimming, “Not just any Meathead. You’ve married Astrid Hofferson.”

Hiccup held up a finger to interject with a very important point. “Who, I am happy to report, does not have a beard,” he paused and narrowed his eyes in thought, murmuring: “though that leaves us without a beard between us.”

Cami let out a growl of frustration and gripped Hiccup’s shoulders, making sure she had his full attention. “You have to keep your wits about you tonight, Hiccup! She could kill you in the night!”

Hiccup’s mind wandered to the various ways Astrid could kill him in the night, his gaze drawn to other side of the room where she stood on the dais, glaring at them. He smiled, somewhat stupidly, and raised his hand to wave at her. There were a few ways she could kill him that he was pretty sure he wouldn’t mind at all…

“Hiccup! Focus!”

Hiccup shrugged off Camicazi’s hands irritably. “Oh come on, Cami. If she wanted to kill me, she would have done it by now. Think about it. She could have let you have your war and killed me in the confusion. You have to admit, it wouldn’t be hard.”

“You’re a lot harder to kill than you think,” Cami muttered.

Hiccup rolled his eyes. “Can I get back to my wife now?”

“You like that _way_ too much.”

Hiccup grinned at her. “Considering I thought she’d be three times the size of me with twelve times the beard, yes. Yes, I do.”

“Hiccup, don’t forget who she is.”

Hiccup opened his mouth to reply that he knew exactly who his new wife was – she was a fearsome warrior who could snap his neck if she so chose to do so, but she hadn’t and he was willing to trust that she wasn’t planning to considering she had _married_ him in the face of an incited war (by Camicazi, he would add) that could have easily destroyed the tentative peace between the Hooligans and the Meatheads and subsequently ended the unwanted arrangement. Ergo, he must conclude that said arrangement was no longer so _unwanted_ and - ipso facto - Astrid _wanted_ to marry him. He of course didn’t manage to get any of his planned monologue (of very sound logic) out because he was interrupted by the arrival of The Most Beautiful Shieldmaiden in Midgard herself (though he supposed she would no longer be considered a shield maiden after tonight and wondered, in a haze of mead, how she felt about that).

“And just who am I, Camicazi?”

#

There were a great many insults Astrid had chosen to weather in pursuing this marriage for the good of the tribe, but the greatest yet was the presence of Camicazi at her wedding feast. Camicazi, that nasty, irritating thorn in her side, was apparently best friends with Hiccup. Despite the fact that the Bog girl had taken it upon herself to attempt – and fail spectacularly - to start a war to free Hiccup from what was apparently an unwanted match, she was still allowed to stay for the festivities. And now, now she had sequestered him away to the far side of the Great Hall and was putting her _hands_ on him.

Astrid wasn’t going to pretend that she felt anything of great significance for her new husband other than a tolerance and the admittance that he wasn’t so bad after all, but watching the other girl being so familiar with him irked her. He was her _husband_ and that should _mean_ something. Astrid emptied her cup of mead yet again and rose to her feet. She stalked past the serving staff and weaved through the crowds of laughing Hooligans and drunken Meatheads, her eyes locked on Hiccup and Camicazi. This had to end. She had to make her position abundantly clear to both of them. Now that they were married, she would not tolerate any…any… _dalliances_. She was the future chief of the Meatheads and Hiccup was _her_ husband; he would treat her with all the respect and honour entitled to her or he would pay the price. Her hands curled into fists at her sides, her fingers itching to close around the handle of her axe. Never more than in this moment did she feel the weight of her bridal gown, or the heat trapped behind her unbound hair.

She arrived behind Hiccup just in time to catch Camicazi say the words: “Hiccup, don’t forget who she is.”

Astrid’s heart sped and thoughts raced through her mind: there was a plot to kill her; they were lovers; Camicazi was still trying to start a war; she was in danger. She narrowed her eyes at Camicazi and drew in a sharp breath to silence the flood of thought in her mind.

Then she said, with deadly clarity, “And just who am I, Camicazi?”

The other girl shifted her stance with casual ease, but Astrid didn’t miss the way her hand fell to her hip, where her sword was sheathed. Camicazi smirked at her and Hiccup turned quickly, wide green eyes locking on her face. The slow, goofy smile that stretched across his face made her heart jump in a way that had nothing to do with murderous intent at all and a wave of annoyance passed over her – not at him, which was part of the problem, but at herself for letting him get under her skin. For letting him make her feel like all he could see was her. He was The Pride of Berk and she couldn’t afford to forget that, even if everything she knew about him had shown her an entirely different person than the legend that preceded him. Even if his smile made her feel less _terrified_ of what was to come.

“Aw, isn’t this sweet? You finally found someone dumb enough to marry you.”

Camicazi’s voice broke Astrid from the trance that Hiccup held her in with those grassy green eyes. She redirected her attention to the other girl in time to catch the smirk on her face as she ran her eyes over Astrid’s bridal gown.

“That’s a good look for you, Astrid. Just as pretty as your title. What was it again? The Most Bearded Shieldmaiden in Midgard?”

Hiccup looked between them and took a shaky step forward as Astrid eyed the ceremonial sword imbedded in the pillar. It was uncommonly sharp and if she understood the rumours, Hiccup was an accomplished blacksmith; she wondered how functional the sword really was. Maybe she could test it out on Cami.

“Uh, okay, guys?” Hiccup started. Both girls glared at him and he swallowed visibly, wincing, “Ladies?”

“There’s no ladies here, Hiccup,” Camicazi said evenly, “Only the best swordfighter in the archipelago and,” she paused, grinning sinisterly, “Astrid.”

Astrid’s mouth curled upward. This was something she knew, something she could navigate. Something easier to deal with than wedding ceremonies and wedding…nights.

“I’ve been wondering how sharp that ceremonial sword is,” Astrid said, nodding toward the pillar with her chin, “Should I test it out on you?”

Camicazi’s grin stretched into a toothy smile, crooked teeth on ready display. “I’d love to see you try, Hofferson.”

Astrid lunged for the sword, her fingertips brushing the handle even as her body collided heavily with something. Astrid barely had time to register that the something that had crashed into her was warm and firm and smelled distinctly of mead before she was falling.

“Ow,” Hiccup groaned as he hit the floor beneath her.

Astrid struggled to push herself upright, her legs tangled in her gown, her arm wrapped in Hiccup’s heavy fur cloak. She perched herself over the prone body of her husband, her brain finally registering what had happened – Hiccup had stepped between them. He’d stopped her.

“What are you doing?” she growled at him while Camicazi clutched her stomach, laughing hard beside them.

“Just trying to prevent war. You know, like we promised to do?” he grumbled.

Astrid rolled off him and stood up, the reflexes of a seasoned warrior taking over where mead had slowed her mind. Hiccup sat up and looked up at her.

“Cami’s my oldest friend. I’d rather you didn’t kill her.”

Astrid frowned at him, sparing a glare at Camicazi who was now leaning against the pillar with lazy grace, running her index finger back and forth along the length of the handle of the ceremonial sword, taunting her. Hiccup looked up at her with such earnestness that Astrid felt a twist in her stomach – a certain shame for losing her head, again. Part of her wanted to think him weak for constantly seeking peace, but as the shadows played along the edge of his stubbornly set jaw, Astrid knew there wasn’t anything weak about him. Maybe that’s what made him so effective – his ability to subtly wear away at defenses like the sea lapping at a cliff face.

Without thinking, she held out her hand to him. His face was a rapid fire display of emotions, ranging from confusion to dawning realization to sheer joy as he reached out and let Astrid pull him to his feet. As though possessed, Astrid didn’t stop there. She straightened his cloak and brushed away dirt from the sleeve of his tunic. She didn’t even realize she was doing it until Camicazi snorted.

“You two are disgusting,” she said, sneering at them.

It was only then that Astrid realized how closely she’d been standing to Hiccup. She took an unconscious step backward and looked anywhere but at him. Her heart pounded against her ribcage like a Terror caught in a cage. She couldn’t believe she’d gotten so sloppy, so _comfortable_ around Hiccup without really knowing him at all. It made her afraid of what she was capable if left alone with him. It reminded her that the wedding wasn’t over yet, that there was more to come tonight. As though she couldn’t help herself, she peeked up at Hiccup’s face and found him looking away as well, his cheeks flushed. Was he thinking the same thing as her? Could he be…

“Are you hurt?”

The strong, accented male voice came from behind her, so familiar that Astrid felt her muscles relax instantly in response…before they immediately seized up and she spun around to find herself face to chest with Eret. He was standing too close, but Astrid had nowhere to go. If she stepped backward, she’d be right up against Hiccup again and while she supposed that’s where she _should_ go, she wasn’t sure she wanted to right now. Not with Eret standing right there, glaring at her Berkian husband as though just waiting for her command to tear him to shreds.

“Eret,” she said, her voice softer than she ever let it be, “What are you doing here?”

He dropped his gaze to meet hers and she could see the pain etched there, festering in the depths of his eyes.

“It’s my future chief’s wedding,” he said, his words crisp and sharp, “I wouldn’t miss it.”

Astrid shook her head. No, she’d let him go. She’d written him off. He wasn’t supposed to be here, not now. Not when absolutely nothing could be done. Not when she’d already accepted her fate and had halfway decided that it was going to be okay if it was Hiccup.

Hiccup.

Astrid spun around, her shoulder brushing Eret’s chest, and stared at her husband’s face. His eyes seemed clearer now as he looked at Eret, as though he’d waded through the miasma of mead and come through stronger for it. A frown tugged at his lips. Not one that suggested anger or pain, but rather that he was putting together all the puzzle pieces and still finding the picture unclear. He looked at her, still trying to read the situation.

“Astrid, who—”

“Who, indeed, but my good citizen, Eret, come to pay his best wishes to the happily married couple.”

Astrid flinched at the booming tones of her father’s voice and glanced up in time to see his massive hand closing on and squeezing Eret’s shoulder enough to make him wince. The Hoff’s eyes met Astrid’s, his mouth in a hard line.

“It’s probably time for you to go with your aunts, Astrid,” he said, his voice leaving no room for argument, “Your husband won’t be far behind.”

Astrid and Hiccup looked at each other. He was as pale and bloodless as she felt, the freckles standing out starkly on his face. She lost sight of him as they were crowded by men and women eager to send them off to their wedding bed.  Astrid could barely breathe as she looked back to see Eret’s crestfallen expression with the echo of Camicazi’s laughter in her ears.


	12. Chapter 12

It wasn’t exactly in Hiccup’s nature to stay still. When he was five, he was off in the woods, searching for trolls (they steal your socks, you know); when he was fifteen, he was off shooting Night Furies out of the sky (or accidentally razing the village trying); and up until very recently, he had taken to the skies and the boundless horizon on the back of his dragon. He wanted to take to the skies right now to clear his head so he could face his most chilling task yet: his wedding night. The mead that had flowed so freely during the feast, and seemed like _such_ a good idea at the time, had long since changed from fun warmth to a roiling fire in his stomach, threatening to escape out of his mouth at any moment - which was largely why he was keeping it shut despite the cajoling group that were dragging him through the Great Hall and out the door.

They’d waited, of course, as they should, for Astrid and her entourage to disappear down the path before they’d started in on him, offering last minute advice that Hiccup didn’t want to hear repeated as it certainly wasn’t helping his newfound need to vomit. But keeping his mouth shut, though impressive as it was for Hiccup, wasn’t his only feat. He couldn’t move.

Hiccup was no coward. Anyone who knew him would vouch for that. He was _eccentric_ , certainly, but he was no coward. Still, when faced with the very real fact that he was _married_ to Astrid Hofferson, he was _terrified_ into inaction. He wished he could say it was because she was a Meathead and a fearsome warrior, but really neither of those things had any play in his current state. No, no, it was worse than that – it was the fact that they were going to be alone tonight, in the same bed. There were certain _expectations_ that he had to deliver on, and while he’d heard enough…advice on the topic, he really, honestly had no idea what the hell he was doing at all. That he was halfway down the steps of the Great Hall now had absolutely nothing to do with his own ambulatory efforts and everything to do with the group of Vikings, all at least three times his size, dragging him along toward his fate. Or doom. Maybe doom was a better word. Because whether by her blade or by… _other means_ , spending the night alone with Astrid Hofferson would surely kill him.

His stomach clenched and he winced, holding the churning rage of alcohol in. The last thing he needed was to show up to his wedding bed smelling like puke.

Or maybe that _was_ what he needed to do.

No. No, that wouldn’t work because he needed her to like him. She didn’t have to love him; that was just preposterous. They barely knew each other after all. No, no. Just liking him enough to work with him to bring change to the tribes would be good. It would be _great_. They’d make a great team. People would listen to Astrid, even if they didn’t always listen to him. And he could teach the Meatheads to live with dragons. It had been the plan all along, after all. The reason he agreed to this marriage. For the good of the tribes.

Okay, fine, and maybe because Astrid was breathtakingly, painfully beautiful (and beardless). And, oh gods, they were _married_. And they’d have to…

Someone yelled something particularly vulgar in Hiccup’s ear and it dragged him back to the present. Not because he agreed with the shouted sentiment because if he even _thought_ about trying that suggestion on Astrid, she would slit his throat. He was brought back to the present because when the foul-mouthed, suggestion-offering lout (literally – it was Spitelout) had stepped aside, Hiccup found himself staring at the brand new door of his brand new home. Or, rather, his brand new wing of the chief’s hall that had been hurriedly constructed over the last couple of weeks in anticipation of the wedding that no one thought was ever coming. Hiccup might have been touched by the hasty dedication his people had shown in building him and Astrid a home if he didn’t know that they were so very used to building rapidly after years of war, both with the dragons and with the Meatheads. This was an afternoon’s work, at best. This was…

Hiccup’s view of the door was blocked again, this time by the looming presence of his father.

“Hiccup, I’m proud of you, son. You’ve done right for your people and for the Meatheads, too,” He paused to wipe a tear from his eye, “I never thought I’d see this day.”

Hiccup wanted to interrupt him to remind him that he’d already given him this speech, just a few hours ago, but then he realized that he was probably about to get a very different speech and he _really_ didn’t want to hear sex stories about his parents. He was having a hard enough time not puking as it was.

“Okay, dad,” he said, his voice wavering, “We’re good.”

“But, I wanted to impart—”

Hiccup shook his head, probably too hard given the stars in his vision. “Nope. No. We’re _good_ , dad. Please don’t impart.”

“This is an important night, son! The gods will be with you—”

“Oh gods, please stop—”

“The Valkyries will sing from Valhalla—”

“Because I’m going to die?”

“Freya will bless this union with many children!” Stoick continued, his heavy hands landing on Hiccup’s shoulders and knocking him a little off-kilter.

“Maybe many is a bit much,” Hiccup replied weakly, “It’s only one night.”

Stoick leaned down so that his face was level with Hiccup’s. “Go on, son, you’ve got this,” he murmured so no one else would hear him.

Hiccup scowled. “Thanks for the pep talk, dad,” he muttered, his voice flat.

Stoick stood up to his full height again and addressed the group. “It’s time!”

There was a general roar of approval and some more rather unsavoury jokes tossed about by the others that Hiccup didn’t find quite appropriate, given he was pretty sure the door wasn’t soundproof and Astrid was waiting on the other side.

Suddenly, there was no door because it had been opened and Hiccup had been sent careening through it, stumbling on his prosthetic foot, dizzy from the mead that still raced through his body. When he righted himself, he froze in place like a lamb before a Monstrous Nightmare because there she was, the Most Beautiful Shieldmaiden in Midgard. Her bridal gown had been replaced with a white shift with Hofferson and Haddock symbols woven into its long sleeves and skirt. The crown of flowers she’d worn earlier was back on her head, her long, shining hair loose around her shoulders. She was flanked by a crowd of unfamiliar women – her kin, of course. Meatheads. In the orange glow of the blazing hearth, she looked like a Valkyrie who’d escaped Valhalla, and judging by the stubborn set of her jaw and the determination in her eyes, she wasn’t exactly sure that Midgard had been the best destination. She wasn’t beautiful, no. That word was too weak. Astrid – his _wife_ – was…radiant. And fierce. And fearsome. And all the things she was promised to be (except bearded).

And Hiccup couldn’t move. Again.

Stoick leaned into his ear and stage whispered, “You have to take her crown off, son.”

A wave of laughter tittered through the room and Hiccup was shaken from his trance with his own nervous chuckle. He looked away from Astrid, his eyes falling on the bed – a bed big enough for two – and his heart set to pounding uncomfortably in his chest. He tore his eyes away and back to Astrid’s face. Her expression was something else now, still strong and determined, but also, maybe…a little afraid? Hiccup knew what that felt like and almost against his own better judgement, he smiled at her to show her he wasn’t a threat. Her shoulders relaxed just a little and the corners of her mouth curled up, just barely.

Hiccup swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry, and took one shaky step forward. And then another, and another, until he was standing right in front of her. It was a simple thing, the last step they needed to take in front of witnesses to complete their wedding in the eyes of both tribes. He reached up, his hand shaking in anticipation, his fingers barely touching the soft petals of the flowers on the crown, his eyes locked on hers. All he had to do was remove the crown and then she was his.

He paused, his hand hovering just above her crown, and frowned. That wasn’t right. She wasn’t his. With his free hand, the one still by his side, he reached out for hers. Astrid blinked as his fingers brushed hers, glancing down at their hands and then back up to his face. He smiled cautiously, like he did when he met a new dragon, his eyes locked on hers. He’d look away from her and wait for her acceptance, if he thought it’d help. He didn’t, so he tried something else.

“Together,” he barely breathed.

Astrid’s eyes searched his like she thought she’d find the trick hiding there. Hiccup knew she’d made her decision when her fingers slid between his. She nodded infinitesimally and Hiccup’s fingers curled around the crown, pulling it from her head gently. She wasn’t his, and he wasn’t hers; they were equals, together in whatever came next.

#

Astrid kept her eyes on Hiccup’s – wide and impossibly green – while the witnesses congratulated them and each other and started to file out of the room. Their hands were still connected, fingers entwined. When he’d offered it, Astrid was half-expecting some trick, some last minute knife to the ribs, but instead all she saw was his palm, inoffensive though calloused. And when he’d whispered to her, she felt as she did back at the dais, before Camicazi had come and attempted to ruin their wedding – like she could get through this if it was him. _Because_ it was him.

The magic was broken as the door clicked shut and the last witness left the room, when Hiccup looked away as though he wanted to be sure they were gone. When he looked back, Astrid’s heart started to pound. They both looked down at their hands before hastily tugging their fingers apart and taking a step backward. Astrid might have laughed at their mirrored movements in other circumstances, but there was nothing to laugh at now. This was deadly serious; this was their wedding night.

Hiccup took another unconscious step backwards and Astrid crossed her arms in front of her chest, a defensive, frightened move she hadn’t done in years. Still, she didn’t uncross them as she watched him raise her flower crown up and cringe. He looked up at her, his face alight with pained confusion, like he didn’t quite know what to do next. The truth was, Astrid didn’t either, but she wasn’t going to let him know that. Instead, she uncrossed her arms and stepped toward him, holding her hand out for the crown.

“Here,” she said.

He released it into her hand and took yet another step backwards, like she was a wild dragon of unknown origin. She turned it over and surveyed the damage. He’d crushed half of it in his grip. Astrid sighed and set it down on the cabinet beside them. When she looked back, he was staring at her and she wasn’t exactly sure what to say or do, so she tucked her hair behind her ear and stood her ground, thankful for the dim lighting that hid the flush she felt creeping across her cheeks. Her heart fluttered in a way that twisted her stomach with fear when he looked away toward the bed. He swallowed noisily and stepped backward again. In the short time she’d known Hiccup, she’d never seen him so _still_. And silent. She didn’t like it. It was better when he was giving her the ready play-by-play of his stream of consciousness.

Maybe it would be better to just…get this over with, like her Aunt Bertha had suggested. Never mind that her Aunt Bertha had also slid a dagger under Astrid’s pillow “just in case”. Maybe Bertha’s advice wasn’t the most sound. Then again, maybe it was. Like anything she didn’t really want to do, she would face this head on, too. Though he was Berkian, Hiccup was attractive enough. She’d even kissed him once already. Didn’t that mean something? And at least he wasn’t huge; she could take him if he tried anything funny. Maybe they didn’t know each other, but arranged marriages like this weren’t uncommon and plenty of people found a way to work through them just fine.

Astrid’s spine straightened, her shoulders sliding back and down, her chin held high. She stalked across the small space between them like she was heading into battle and Hiccup’s eyes widened in alarm as he stumbled backwards, his hands out in front of him like she’d seen him do with Toothless that first day. Like he was trying to subdue her and avoid being killed. Astrid paused, frowning at him.

“Whoa!” he cried, flinching as though she were about to hit him.

His hands remained in front of him and Astrid cocked her hip, resting her hand on it and watching him expectantly. He seemed to realize that she wasn’t advancing, and slowly lowered his hands and straightened his stance. He swallowed noisily again and Astrid considered reaching for a cup of mead to give him until she remembered that her aunts had poured it and she didn’t quite trust that they wouldn’t try to kill her new husband. She watched him run his hand through his hair, tufts sticking out wildly as a result, his crooked front teeth working at his bottom lip in thought, and she wasn’t quite sure she wanted him dead just yet.

Hiccup’s face brightened suddenly and he looked at her, smiling, sending Astrid’s heart back into its pounding staccato.

“Maybe I should show you around this place!” he said, deliberately crossing to the other side of the room – the other side of the _bed_.

He started talking – incessantly – and Astrid felt her heart rate slow back down to something normal. Hiccup Haddock talking nonstop was something she’d grown comfortable with since she came to Berk. It was something she knew how to navigate. She watched him as he yammered about the hearth and its construction and huffed to herself, amused that she was spending her wedding night listening to her new husband prattle on about design schematics, like that was something she knew anything about or cared for at all. Once he was out of material on that front, he paused in front of a hastily thrown up, blank wall.

“Once this is done, we’ll have a whole other set of rooms. Our own kitchen and work rooms and sitting rooms. My dad obviously thought he’d have more time to build me a home—“ he paused and corrected himself, “ _us_ a home. Though I guess it’s just an extension of the home I already have? But still! We’ll have our own space and if there’s anything you want, I can build it for you. Or have it built. We can build pretty fast with the dragons, but I asked them to leave this space unfinished in case there was something you wanted to have built special. Maybe you have an extensive axe collection you want to display. I don’t know.”

Astrid narrowed her eyes at him. “You left that for me?”

Hiccup swallowed again, visible and dramatic like everything he did. “Yeah. Was that a bad idea?”

Astrid shook her head and smiled. “No. I didn’t—”

“You didn’t?”

“I didn’t think I’d have much choice.”

Hiccup scoffed, though it didn’t seem to be directed at her. “I know what that’s like, believe me,” he shrugged, “You’re going to live here, too. Of course you should have a say in our home.”

Astrid liked the way he said “our”, probably more than she should. She liked that he considered them a team already. They were in this together, but she’d been expecting the worst from the beginning. Maybe they could make this work. She took a step forward and Hiccup drew in a noisy breath. They stood with the girth of the bed between them, Hiccup with his back to the fire, his expressive face barely visible in the shadows. Astrid felt again what she did back in the Great Hall – that maybe he was just as scared as she was. She narrowed her eyes at him.

“Are you afraid of me?” she asked.

“What?” Hiccup practically barked, shrugging his shoulders in an over the top display of nonchalance, “No, of course not! I’m not afraid, why would I be afraid? I’ve done this lots of times.”

His voice cracked as he gestured to the bed. Astrid raised an eyebrow. She hadn’t forgotten how he’d told her so earnestly that there was no one besides her. But she also hadn’t forgotten Camicazi and anything she’d done tonight. Hardly the gestures of a girl unaffected by Hiccup’s marriage.

“What?” she asked, her voice even, “Slept?”

Hiccup shifted, the light catching his face – his wide eyes and the nervous line of his mouth. “Ha ha,” he said flatly, “Is it that hard to believe?”

“Yes, since you told me otherwise. Unless you lied.”

Hiccup’s eyes widened even more and Astrid had to bite back a laugh. He’d backed himself into a corner and he was as cagey as a Terror in the attic. She could practically see his brain firing, working its way through a haze of mead and fear to deliver some sort of response that would be acceptable to her. She was ready for a lie, but she certainly wasn’t ready for the truth. His shoulders slumped as he deflated in front of her.

“All right, fine. You got me,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair again and making even more of a mess, “I’ve never done this before. I don’t know what I’m doing. Go ahead and laugh.”

But Astrid didn’t laugh, at least not at first, not until the realization of what he said seeped in and a nervous giggle escaped her lips. Because it wasn’t a lie. She didn’t know how she knew – maybe it was her awareness of the sheer amount of mead he’d consumed combined with his obvious inability to keep his emotions from his face, but…he wasn’t lying.

“Oh, good. You _are_ laughing. Fantastic.”

“No,” Astrid said around another giggle, “I’m not laughing at you. Really.”

Hiccup gave her an incredulous look. “Then what do you call that?” he asked, gesturing at her as she laughed again.

Astrid shrugged. “Relief,” she answered honestly.

She probably shouldn’t be so open with him. She barely knew him. And yet, here they were, married anyway. Hiccup stared at her and Astrid tucked her hair behind her ear again, unable to bear the direct attention. It felt too focused, too _personal_.

“You mean, you haven’t—”

“You thought I had?” she returned sharply.

“No, no! I just assumed…which I really shouldn’t have because to assume is to make an ass out of—” he trailed off, suddenly aware of his rambling, “Sorry. No, I guess I just didn’t…think about it? You just seem,” he paused and shrugged helplessly, “capable. Of anything.”

Astrid frowned at him, trying to discern what he meant. Did he mean she was capable of deceit? Of promiscuity? Of—

“And I’m the opposite of that, you know? I’m just…I mean, I’m capable, but never the way anyone wants me to be. I have no idea what I’m doing. This is just…I mean, I thought we could make a difference, but I didn’t think about _this_ ,” he exclaimed, throwing his hands out toward the bed emphatically.

Astrid huffed and smiled. “It’s just a bed.”

Hiccup frowned at her, his heavy brow lowering in apparent disappointment. “You know what I mean.”

Astrid looked down at the bed, at the clean, new linens that had been laid out. They were white, so as to make all the evidence apparent in the light of day. There was a lot on the line and while the idea of consummating the marriage scared her – she could admit it to herself if not to anyone else – it had to be done. For the good of the tribes. There couldn’t be any question.

“Hiccup,” she said softly, looking up to ensure she had his attention. She did, fully and completely, “We have to,” she paused, swallowing just as noisily and dryly as he had been doing, “finish this. They’ll expect it. We don’t have a choice. If we—”

“What if we do?”

Astrid froze, her eyes on him. “What?”

“What if we do have a choice? Astrid, think about it. They pushed into this marriage without a choice, but what if we have a choice about this?”

Astrid narrowed her eyes at him trying to ferret out his meaning yet again. She was sorry for the mead she’d had earlier. She was sorry because she needed to be clear headed when talking with Hiccup, even when he wasn’t.

“You mean…you don’t want to consummate our marriage?”

“Yes! No! Wait, I mean, yes, I want to. Obviously. You’re,” he paused, gesticulating at her wildly, making her look down at her dress to see what had him so worked up and finding nothing of particular interest, “What I’m trying to say is what if we don’t do it…now?”

“Hiccup,” Astrid started, only to be interrupted by his continued speech, his eyes alight with the building power of his idea.

“Think about it, Astrid! We barely know each other and I’m not going to presume to know what you’re thinking, but you look as scared as I do,” he paused to hold up a placating hand as she opened her mouth to tell him that she was _not_ scared – of anything, ever, “Why don’t we just…pretend?”

Astrid’s anger dissipated as quickly as it began and she blinked at him as she let his idea sink in. “Pretend?” she repeated.

“Yeah! We could just _not_ ,” he gestured at the bed, “And say we did. Who would know?”

“Hiccup,” she started once again, “I don’t know.”

“No, really! And in the meantime, we can get to know each other better. I can show you more of Berk, teach you to ride a dragon. And, if all else fails, after all that if you’re still not, you know, _interested_ in all this,” he paused to gesture to his own body.

“You just gestured to all of you.”

“—then there’s always divorce, right? That’s an option.”

“What?”

“We don’t have to be married to have a good alliance. If we work hard to win over our tribes together, then we can make changes that will last. No one would even care if we got divorced.”

“You want to get divorced?” Astrid asked, confused and a little affronted.

“No! I mean, no. I—oh gods, I’m just making a mess of this.”

“It’s a little hard to follow.”

“I’m just giving you an option. If we can fake this until we, well, make it, then maybe we have a chance of making a change. For peace. And maybe,” he paused to swallow hard again, “Maybe we’ll find our way _here_ ,” he patted the bed for emphasis in a way that made Astrid feel hot and silly, “or maybe you’ll still want out.”

“I never said I wanted out,” she said, the words slipping out before she could stop them.

The resulting hesitant smile on Hiccup’s face was worth the blunder, and the more she thought about his idea, the more she let it settle in and take root, the more she could see the value in it. They could spend their honeymonth getting to know one another and figuring out how best to help both their tribes, fostering peace with their marriage without all the…expectations. Astrid felt like the weight of a Deadly Nadder had been lifted from her shoulders all at once.

She blinked at him, her earnest, slightly drunk husband. He’d surprised her again, though she should probably get used to that. They were married, after all.

“Okay,” she said quietly, “Let’s…pretend.”


End file.
